BYTHEAUTHOROF 


At  the  Green  Dragon. 


BY 

BEATRICE    HARRADEN, 

Author  of  "  Ships  that  Pass  in  the  Night." 


COPYRIGHT,  1894,   BY  OPTIMUS  PRINTING  COMPANY, 


NEW  YORK: 

OPTIMUS   PRINTING   COMPANY, 
45, 47,49  &  51  ROSE  STREET. 


Miss  Harraden's  new  book  "At  the  Green  Dragon" 
shows  a  remarkable  advance  in  her  art  since  the  publica- 
tion of  "  Ships  that  Pass  in  the  Night."  One  could  not 
receive  more  pleasure  from  a  new  story  than  that  afforded 
by  "  At  the  Green  Dragon."  The  character  of  Hieronymus, 
the  historian,  his  relations  with  Joan,  the  farmer's  daugh- 
ter, and  her  lover,  the  exciseman,  are  treated  with  a 
freshness  and  a  precision  which  makes  all  three  very  living 
figures  in  the  memory.  Hieronymus,  in  particular,  is  one 
of  the  most  gracious  and  sympathetic  people  in  modern 
fiction.  His  simplicity,  his  kindliness,  his  deep  humanity 
all  are  admirably  and  tenderly  indicated,  without  a  super- 
fluous page  or  line.  Miss  Harraden  has  her  eye  on  the 
problems  of  personality;  and  her  main  theme  is  the  influ- 
ences of  this  elderly  scholar,  a  little  tired  and  full  of  the 
wisdom  of  life,  upon  a  young  and  ardent  girl  with  whom 
he  is  accidently  brought  into  contact.  The  story  abounds 
with  both  pathos  and  humor.  To  those  who  do  not  ap- 
preciate the  highly  classical  literature  of  "  Ships  that  Pass 
in  the  Night,"  this  new  story  will  be  as  welcome  as  an 
oasis  in  the  desert.  It  is  full  of  the  sentiment  of  healthy  life 
and  love. — THE  EDITOR. 


[At  the  Green  Dragon.] 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 


GHAPTEK  I. 

HIERONYMUS    COMES. 

IT  WAS  a  pouring  September  evening  when  a 
stranger  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  Crown 
Inn.  Old  Mrs.  Ho  wells  saw  that  he  carried 
a  portmanteau  in  his  hand. 

"  If  it's  a  bedroom  you  want,"  she  said,  "  I 
can't  be  bothered  with  you.  What  with 
brewing  the  beer  and  cleaning  the  brass,  I've 
more  than  I  can  manage.  I'm  that  tired !" 

"  And  so  am  I,"  said  the  stranger  pathetic- 
ally. 

"  Go  over  the  way  to  the  Green  Dragon," 


4  AT  THE  OREKN  DRAGON. 

suggested  Mrs.  Howells.  "  Mrs.  Benbow  may 
be  able  to  put  you  up.  But  what  with  the 
brewing  and  the  cleaning,  I  can't  do  with 
you." 

The  stranger  stepped  across  the  road  to  the 
Green  Dragon.  He  tapped  at  the  door,  and  a 
cheery  little  woman  made  her  appearance. 
She  was  carrying  what  they  call  in  Shropshire 
a  devil  of  hot  beer.  It  smelt  good. 

"  Good-evening,  ma'am,"  said  the  stranger. 
"  Can  you  house  me  for  the  night  ?  The  host- 
ess of  the  Crown  Inn  has  turned  me  away. 
But  you  surely  will  not  do  the  same?  You 
observe  what  a  bad  cold  I  have." 

Mrs.  Benbow  glanced  sharply  at  the 
stranger.  She  had  not  kept  the  Green  Dragon 
for  ten  years  without  learning  to  judge  some- 
what of  character ;  and  to-night  she  was  par- 


AT  THK  GREEN  DRAGON.  5 

ticularly  on  her  guard,  for  her  husband  had 
gone  to  stay  for  two  days  with  some  relative 
in  Shrewsbury,  so  that  Mrs.  Benbow  and  old 
John  of  the  wooden  leg,  called  Dot  and  carry 
one,  were  left  as  sole  guardians  of  the  little 
wayside  public  house. 

"  It  is  not  very  convenient  for  me  to  take 
you  in,"  she  said. 

"And  it  would  not  be  very  convenient  for 
me  to  be  shut  out,"  he  replied.  "  Besides 
which,  I  have  had  a  whiff  of  that  hot  beer." 

At  that  moment  a  voice  from  the  kitchen 
cried  impatiently  :  "  Here,  missus  !  where  be 
that  beer  of  your'n  ?  I  be  feeling  quite  faint- 
like!" 

"  As  though  he  could  call  out  like  that  if  he 
was  faint!"  laughed  Mrs.  Benbow,  running  off 
into  the  kitchen. 


6  AT  THK  GREEN  DRAGON. 

When  she  returned  she  found  the  stranger 
seated  at  the  foot  of  the  staircase. 

"  And  what  do  you  propose  to  do  for  me  ?" 
he  asked  patiently. 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  genial  manner. 
Mrs.  Benbow  was  conquered. 

"  I  propose  to  fry  some  eggs  and  bacon  for 
your  supper,"  she  said  cheerily.  "  And  then  I 
propose  to  make  your  bedroom  ready." 

"  Sensible  woman  !"  he  said,  as  he  followed 
her  into  the  parlor,  where  a  fire  was  burning 
brightly.  He  threw  himself  into  the  easy- 
chair,  and  immediately  experienced  that  sen- 
sation of  repose  and  thankfulness  which  comes 
over  us  when  we  have  found  a  haven.  There 
he  rested,  content  with  himself  and  his  sur- 
roundings. The  fire  lit  up  his  face,  and 
showed  him  to  be  a  man  of  about  forty  years. 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  ? 

There  was  nothing  specially  remarkable 
about  him.  The  face  in  repose  was  sad  and 
thoughtful ;  and  yet  when  he  discovered  a  yel- 
low cat  sleeping  under  the  table,  he  smiled 
as  though  some  great  pleasure  had  come  into 
his  life. 

"Come  along,  little  comrade!"  he  said,  as 
he  captured  her.  She  looked  up  into  his  face 
so  frankly  that  the  stranger  was  much  im- 
pressed. "  Why,  I  do  believe  you  are  a  dog 
undergoing  a  cat  incarnation,"  he  continued. 
"  What  qualities  did  you  lack  when  you  were  a 
dog,  I  wonder  ?  Perhaps  you  did  not  steal 
sufficiently  well:  perhaps  you  had  not  culti- 
vated restfulness.  And  your  name?  Your 
name  shall  be  Gamboge.  I  think  that  is  a 
suitable  appellation  for  you — certainly  more 
suitable  than  most  of  the  names  thrust  upon 


8  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

unoffending  humanity.  My  own  name,  for 
instance,  Hieronymus !  Ah,  you  may  well 
mew !  You  are  a  thoroughly  sensible 
creature." 

So  he  amused  himself  until  Mrs.  Benbow 
came  with  his  supper.  Then  he  pointed  to 
the  cat  and  said  quietly  : 

"  That  is  a  very  companionable  dog  of 
yours." 

Mrs.  Benbow  darted  a  look  of  suspicion  at 
the  stranger. 

"  We  call  that  a  cat  in  Shropshire,"  she  said, 
beginning  to  regret  that  she  had  agreed  to 
house  the  stranger. 

"  Well,  no  doubt  you  are  partially  right," 
said  the  stranger  solemnly  ;  "  but,  at  the  same 
time,  you  are  partially  wrong.  To-  use  the 
language  of  the  theosophists " 


A  T  THE  OR  EEX  PR  A  0  0  T.  9 

Mrs.  Benbow  interrupted  him. 

"  Eat  your  supper  while  it  is  hot,"  she  said, 
u  then  perhaps  you'll  feel  better.  Your  cold 
is  rather  heavy  in  your  head,  isn't  it  '<" 

He  laughed  good-tern peredly,  and  smiled  -at 
her  as  though  to  reassure  her  that  he  was  quite 
in  his  right  senses ;  and  then,  without  further 
discussion,  he  began  to  make  short  work  of 
the  fried  eggs  and  bacon.  Gamboge,  sitting 
quietly  by  the  firoside,  scorned  to  beg;  she 
preferred  to  steal.  That  is  a  way  some  people 
have. 

The  stranger  finished  his  supper,  and  lit  his 
pipe.  Once  or  twice  he  began  to  doze.  The 
first  time  he  was  aroused"  by  Gamboge,  who 
had  jumped  on  to  the  table,  and  was  seeking 
what  she  might  devour. 

"Ah,  Gamboge,"  he  said  sleepily, "  I  am  sorry 


10  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

I  have  not  left  anything  appetizing  for  you. 
I  was  so  hungry.     Pray  excuse." 

Then  he  dozed  off  again.  The  second  time 
he  was  aroused  by  the  sound  of  singing.  lie 
caught  the  words  of  the  chorus  : 

"  I'll  gayly  sing  from  day  to  day, 

And  do  the  best  I  can; 
If  sorrows  meet  me  on  the  way, 
I'll  bear  them  like  a  man." 

"  An  excellent  resolution/'  murmured  the 
stranger,  becoming  drowsy  once  more.  "  Only 
I  wish  they'd  kept  their  determinations  to 
themselves." 

The  third  time  he  was  disturbed  by  the 
sound  of  angry  voices.  There  was  some  quar- 
reling going  on  in  the  kitchen  of  the  Green 
Dragon.  The  voices  became  louder.  There 
was  a  clatter  of  stools  and  a  crasii  of  glasses. 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  H 

"You're  a  pack  of  lying  gypsies!"  sang  out 
some  one.  "  You  know  well  you  didn't  pay 
the  missus !" 

"  Go  for  him  !  go  for  him  !"  was  the  cry. 

Then  the  parlor  door  was  flung  open,  and 
Mrs.  Benbow  rushed  in.  "Oh,"  she  cried, 
"these  gypsy  men  are  killing  the  car 
penter !" 

Hieronymus  Howard  rushed  into  the 
kitchen,  and  threw  himself  into  the  midst  of 
the  contest.  Three  powerful  tramps  were 
kicking  a  figure  prostrate  on  the  ground.  One 
other  man,  Mr.  Greaves,  the  blacksmith,  was 
trying  in  vain  to  defend  his  comrade.  He  had 
no  chance  against  these  gypsy  fellows,  and 
though  he  fought  like  a  lion,  his  strength  was, 
of  course,  nothing  against  theirs.  Old  John 
of  the  one  leg  had  been  knocked  over,  and  was 


12  AT  THE  QUEEN  DRAGON. 

picking  himself  up  with  difficulty.  Everything 
depended  on  the  promptness  of  the  stranger. 
He  was  nothing  of  a  warrior,  this  Hieronymus 
Howard :  he  was  just  a  quiet  student,  who 
knew  how  to  tussle  with  Greek  roots  rather 
than  with  English  tramps.  But  he  threw  him- 
self upon  the  gypsies,  fought  hand  to  hand  with 
them,  was  blinded  with  blows,  nearly  trampled 
beneath  their  feet,  all  but  crushed  against  the 
wall.  Now  he  thrust  them  back.  Now  they 
pressed  on  him  afresh.  Now  the  blacksmith, 
with  desperate  effort,  attacked  them  again. 
Now  the  carpenter,  bruised  and  battered,  but 
wild  for  revenge,  dragged  himself  from  the 
floor,  and  aimed  a  blow  at  the  third  gypsy's 
head.  He  fell.  Then  after  a  short,  sharp 
contest,  the  other  two  gypsies  were  driven  to  the 
door,  which  Mrs.  Benbow  had  opened  wide, 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  13 

and  were  thrust  out.  The  door  was  bolted 
safety. 

But  they  had  bolted  one  gypsy  in  with  them. 
When  they  returned  to  the  kitchen  they 
found  him  waiting  for  them.  He  had  recovered 
himself. 

Mrs.  Benbow  raised  a  cry  of  terror.  She 
had  thought  herself  safe  in  her  little  castle. 
The  carpenter  and  the  blacksmith  were  past 
fighting.  Hieronymus  Howard  gazed  placidly 
at  the  great  tramp. 

"  I  am  sorry  we  had  forgotten  you,"  he  said 
courteously.  "  Perhaps  you  will  oblige  us  by 
following  your  comrades.  I  will  open  the 
door  for  you.  I  think  we  are  all  rather 
tired — aren't  we  ?  So  perhaps  you  will  go  at 
once." 

The  man  gazed  sheepishly  at  him,  and  then 


14  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

followed  him.  Hieronymus  Howard  opened 
the  door. 

"  Good-evening  to  you,"  he  said. 

And  the  gypsy  passed  out  without  a  word. 

"  Well  now,"  said  Hieronymus,  as  he  drew 
the  bolt,  "  that  is  the  end  of  that." 

Then  he  hastened  into  the  parlor.  Mrs. 
Benbow  hurried  after  him,  and  was  just  in 
time  to  break  his  fall.  He  had  swooned 
away. 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  16 


CHAPTER  II. 

HIERONYMCS    STAYS. 

HIERONYMUS  Howard  had  only  intended  to 
pass  one  night  at  the  Green  Dragon.  But  his 
sharp  encounter  with  the  gypsies  altered  his 
plans.  He  was  battered  and  bruised  and 
thoroughly  shaken,  and  quite  unable  to  do 
anything  else  except  rest  in  the  armchair  and 
converse  with  Gamboge,  who  had  attached 
herself  to  him,  and  evidently  appreciated  his 
companionship.  His  right  hand  was  badly 
sprained.  Mrs.  Benbow  looked  after  him  most 
tenderly,  bemoaning  all  the  time  that  he 


16  AT  THK  GREEN  DRAGON. 

should  be  in  such  a  plight  because  of  her. 
There  was  nothing  that  she  was  not  willing  to 
do  for  him  ;  it  was  a  long  time  since  Hierony- 
mus  Howard  had  been  so  petted  and  spoiled. 
Mrs.  Benbow  treated  every  one  like  a  young 
child  that  needed  to  be  taken  care  of.  The 
very  men  who  came  to  drink  her  famous  ale 
were  under  her  strict  motherly  authority. 

"  There  now,  Mr.  Andrew,  that's  enough  for 
ye,"  she  would  say ;  "  not  another  glass  to- 
night. No,  no,  John  Curtis ;  get  you  gone 
home.  You'll  not  coax  another  half-pint  out 
of  me." 

She  was  generally  obeyed :  even  Hierony- 
mus  Howard,  who  refused  rather  peevishly  to 
take  a  third  cup  of  beef-tea,  found  himself 
obliged  to  comply.  When  she  told  him  to  lie 
on  the  sofa,  he  did  so  without  a  murmur. 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  1? 

When  she  told  him  to  get  up  and  take  his 
dinner  while  it  was  still  hot,  he  obeyed  like  a 
well-trained  child.  She  cut  his  food,  and  then 
took  the  knife  away. 

"  You  mustn't  try  to  use  your  right  hand," 
she  said  sternly.  "  Put  it  back  in  the  sling  at 
once." 

Hieronymus  obeyed.  Her  kind  tyranny 
pleased  and  amused  him,  and  he  was  not 
at  all  sorry  to  go  on  staying  at  the  Green. 
Dragon.  He  was  really  on  his  way  to  visit 
some  friends  just  on  the  border  between 
Shropshire  and  Wales,  to  form  one  of  a  large 
house-party,  consisting  of  people  both  interest- 
ing and  intellectual :  qualities,  by  the  way,  not 
necessarily  inseparable.  But  he  was  just  at 
the  time  needing  quiet  of  mind,  and  he  prom- 
ised himself  some  really  peaceful  hours  in  this 


18  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

little  Shropshire  village,  with  its  hills,  some  of 
them  bare,  and  others  girt  with  a  belt  of  trees, 
and  the  brook  gurgling  past  the  wayside  inn. 
He  was  tired,  and  here  he  would  find  rest.  The 
only  vexatious  part  was  that  he  had  hurt  his 
hand.  But  for  this  mishap  he  would  have 
been  quite  content. 

He  told  this  to  Mr.  Benbow,  who  returned 
that  afternoon,  and  who  expressed  his  regret  at 
the  whole  occurrence. 

"  Oh,  I  am  well  satisfied  here,"  said  Hierony- 
mus  cheerily.  "  Your  little  wife  is  a  capital 
hostess :  somewhat  of  the  tyrant,  you  know. 
Still,  one  likes  that ;  until  one  gets  to  the 
fou-rth  cup  of  beef -tea !  And  she  is  an  excellent 
cook,  and  the  Green  Dragon  is  most  comfort- 
able. I've  nothing  to  complain  of  except  my 
hand.  That  is  a  nuisance,  for  I  wanted  to  do 


AT  THE  ORE/UN  DRAGON.  19 

some  writing.  I  suppose  there  is  no  one  here 
who  could  write  for  me." 

""Well,"  said  Mr.  Benbow,  "perhaps  the 
missus  can.  She  can  do  most  things.  She's 
real  clever." 

Mrs.  Benbow,  being  consulted  on  this  mat- 
ter, confessed  that  she  could  not  do  much  in 
that  line. 

"  1  used  to  spell  pretty  well  once,"  she  said, 
brightly  ;  "  but  the  brewing  and  the  scouring 
and  the  looking  after  other  things  have  knocked 
all  that  out  of  me." 

"You  wrote  to  me  finely  when  I 
was  away,"  her  husband  said.  He  was  a 
quiet  fellow,  and  proud  of  his  little  wife,  and 
he  liked  people  to  know  how  capable  she 
was. 

"  Ah,  but  you  aren't  over-particular,  Ben, 


20  AT  THE  ORE  EN  DRAGON. 

bless  you,"  she  answered,  laughing,  and  run- 
ning away  to  her  many  duties.  Then  she  re- 
turned to  tell  Hieronymus  that  there  was  a 
splendid  fire  in  the  kitchen,  and  that  he  was  to 
go  and  sit  there. 

"  I'm  busy  doing  the  washing  in  the  back- 
yard," she  said.  "  Ben  has  gone  to  look  after 
the  sheep.  Perhaps  you'll  give  an  eye  to  the 
door,  and  serve  out  the  ale.  It  would  help  me 
mighty.  I'm  rather  pressed  for  time  to-day. 
We  shall  brew  to-morrow,  and  I  must  get  the 
washing  done  this  afternoon." 

She  took  it  for  granted  that  he  would  obey, 
and  of  course  he  did.  He  transferred  himself, 
his  pipe,  and  his  book  to  the  front  kitchen,  and 
prepared  for  customers.  Hieronymus  Howard 
had  once  been  an  ambitious  man,  but  never 
before  had  he  been  seized  by  such  an  over- 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  21 

whelming  aspiration  as  now  possessed  him — to 
serve  out  the  Green  Dragon  ale  ! 

"  If  only  some  one  would  come  !"  he  said  to 
himself  scores  of  times. 

No  one  came.  Hieronymus,  becoming  im- 
patient, sprang  up  from  his  chair  and  gazed 
anxiously  out  of  the  window,  just  in  time  to 
see  three  men  stroll  into  the  opposite  inn. 

"  Confound  them  !"  he  cried ;  "  why  don't 
they  come  here  ?" 

The  next  moment  four  riders  stopped  at  the 
rival  public-house,  and  old  Mrs.  Howells  hurried 
out  to  them,  as  though  to  prevent  any  pos- 
sibility of  them  slipping  across  to  the  other 
side  of  the  road. 

This  was  almost  more  than  Hieronymus 
could  bear  quietly.  He  could. scarcely  refrain 
from  opening  the  Green  Dragon  door  and 


22  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

advertising  in  a  loud  voice  the  manifold 
virtues  of  Mrs.  Benbow's  ale  and  spirits.  But 
he  recollected  in  time  that  even  wayside  inns 
have  their  fixed  code  of  etiquette,  and  that 
nothing  remained  for  him  but  to  possess  his 
soul  in  patience.  He  was  rewarded  ;  in  a  few 
minutes  a  procession  of  wagons  filed  slowly 
past  the  Green  Dragon  ;  he  counted  ten  horses 
and  five  men.  Would  they  stop?  Hier- 
onymus  waited  in  breathless  excitement.  Yes, 
they  did  stop,  and  four  of  the  drivers  came 
into  the  kitchen.  "  Where  is  the  fifth  ?"  asked 
Hieronymus,  sharply,  having  a  keen  eye  to 
business. 

"'  He  be  minding  the  horses,"  they  answered, 
looking  at  him  curiously.  But  they  seemed 
to  take  it  for  granted  that  he  was  there  to 
serve  them,  and  they  leaned  back  luxuriously 


A  T  THE  GP  EEN  I)  HA  KON.  23 

in  the  great  oak  settle,  while  Hieronymus 
poured  out  the  beer,  and  received  in  exchange 
some  grimy  coppers. 

After  they  had  gone  the  fifth  man  came  to 
have  his  share  of  the  refreshment ;  and  then 
followed  a  long  pause,  which  seemed  like 
whole  centuries  to  Hieronymus. 

"  It  was  during  a  lengthened  period  like 
this,"  he  remarked  to  himself,  as  he  paced  up 
and  down  the  kitchen — "  yes,  it  was  during 
infinite  time  like  this  that  the  rugged  rocks 
became  waveworn  pebbles !" 

Suddenly  he  heard  the  sound  of  horses'  feet. 

"  It  is  a  rider,"  he  said.  "  I  shall  have  to  go 
out  to  him." 

He  hastened  to  the  door,  and  saw  a  young 
woman  on  a  great  white  horse.  She  carried  a 
market  basket  on  her  arm.  She  wore  no 


24  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

riding-habit,  but  was  just  dressed  in  the 
ordinary  way.  There  was  nothing  picturesque 
about  her  appearance,  but  Hieronyinus  thought 
her  face  looked  interesting.  She  glanced  at 
him  as  though  she  wondered  what  he  could 
possibly  be  doing  at  the  Green  Dragon. 

"  Well,  and  what  may  I  do  for  you  ?"  he 
asked.  He  did  not  quite  like  to  say,  "  What 
may  I  bring  for  you?"  He  left  her  to  decide 
that  matter. 

"  I  wanted  to  see  Mrs.  Benbow,"  she  said. 

"She  is  busy  doing  the  washing,"  he  an- 
swered. "  But  I  will  go  and  tell  her,  if  you 
will  kindly  detain  any  customer  who  may 
chance  to  pass  by." 

He  hurried  away,  and  came  back  with  the 
answer  that  Mrs.  Benbow  would  be  out  in  a 
minute. 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  25 

"Thank  you,"  the  young  woman  said, 
quietly.  Then  she  added:  "You  have  hurt 
your  arm,  I  see." 

"  Yes,"  he  answered ;  "  it  is  a  great  nui- 
sance. I  cannot  write.  I  have  been  wonder- 
ing whether  I  could  get  any  one  to  write  for 
me.  Do  you  know  of  any  one  2" 

''Xo,"she  said,  bitterly;  "we  don't  write 
here.  We  make  butter  and  cheese,  and  we 
fatten  up  our  poultry,  and  then  we  go  to 
market  and  seil  our  butter,  cheese,  and 
poultry." 

"Well,"  said  Hieronymus,  "and  why 
shouldn't  vou  2" 

m 

He  looked  up  at  her,  and  saw  what  a  discon- 
tented expression  had  come  over  her  young 
face. 

She  took  no  notice  of  his  interruption,  but 


26  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

just  switched  the  horse's  ears  with  the  end  of 
her  whip. 

"That  is  what  we  do  year  after  year,"  she 
continued,  "  until  I  suppose  we  have  become  so 
dull  that  we  don't  care  to  do  anything  else. 
That  is  what  we  have  come  into  the  world 
for :  to  make  butter  and  cheese,  and  fatten  up 
our  poultry,  and  go  to  market." 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  cheerily,  "  and  we  all 
have  to  do  it  in  some  form  or  other.  We  all 
go  to  market  to  sell  our  goods,  whether  they 
be  brains,  or  practical  common-sense  (which 
often,  you  know,  has  nothing  to  do  with 
brains),  or  butter,  or  poultry.  Now  I  don't 
know,  of  course,  what  you  have  in  your  basket ; 
but  supposing  you  have  eggs,  which  you  are 
taking  to  market.  Well,  you  are  precisely  in 
the  same  condition  as  the  poet  who  is  on  his 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  27 

way  to  a  publishers,  carrying  a  new  poem  in 
his  breast-pocket.  And  yet  there  is  a  dif- 
ference." 

"  Of  course  there  is,"  she  jerked  out,  scorn- 
fully. 

"Yes,  there  is  a  difference,"  he  continued, 
placidly ;  ';  it  is  this  :  you  will  return  without 
those  eggs,  but  the  poet  will  come  back  still 
carrying  his  poem  in  his  breast-pocket !" 

Then  he  laughed  at  his  own  remark. 

"  That  is  how  things  go  in  the  great  world, 
you  know,"  he  said.  "  Out  in  the  great  world 
there  is  an  odd  way  of  settling  matters.  Still 
they  must  be  settled  somehow  or  other  !" 

"  Out  in  the  world  !"  she  exclaimed.  "  That 
is  where  I  long  to  go." 

"Then  why  on  earth  don't  you?"  he 
replied. 


28  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

At  that  moment  Mrs.  Benbowcame  running 
out. 

"  I  am  so  sorry  to  keep  you  waiting,  Miss 
Hammond,"  she  said  to  the  young  girl ;  "but 
what  with  the  washing  and  the  making  ready 
for  the  brewing  to-morrow,  I  don't  know 
where  to  turn." 

Then  followed  a  series  of  messages  to  which 
Hieronymus  paid  no  attention.  And  then 
Miss  Hammond  cracked  her  whip,  waved  her 
greetings  with  it,  and  the  old  white  horse 
trotted  away. 

"  And  who  is  the  rider  of  the  horse  ?"  asked 
Hieronymus. 

"  Oh,  she  is  Farmer  Hammond's  daughter," 
said  Mrs.  Benbow.  "  Her  name  is  Joan.  She 
is  an  odd  girl,  different  from  the  other  girls 
here.  They  say  she  is  quite  a  scholar  too. 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  #9 

Why,  she  would  be  the  one  to  write  for  you. 
The  very  one,  of  course !     I'll  call  to  her." 

But  by  that  time  the  old  white  horse  was 
out  of  sight. 


30  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON, 


CHAPTEE  III. 

THE   PRIMARY    GLORY. 

THE  next  day  at  the  Green  Dragon  was  a 
busy  one.  Mrs.  and  Mr.  Benbow  were  up  be- 
times, banging  casks  about  in  the  cellar.  When 
Hieronymus  Howard  came  down  to  breakfast, 
he  found  that  they  had  brought  three  great 
barrels  into  the  kitchen,  and  that  one  was 
already  half  full  of  some  horrible  brown  liquid, 
undergoing  the  process  of  fermentation.  He 
felt  himself  much  aggrieved  that  he  was  unable 
to  contribute  his  share  of  work  to  the  proceed- 
ings. It  was  but  little  comfort  to  him  that  he 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  31 

was  again  allowed  to  attend  to  the  customers. 
The  pouring  out  of  the  beer  had  lost  its  charm 
for  him. 

"  It  is  a  secondary  glory  to  pour  out  the 
beer,"  he  grumbled.  "  I  aspire  to  the  primary 
glory  of  helping  to  make  the  beer." 

Mrs.  Benbow  was  heaping  on  the  coal  in  the 
furnace.  She  turned  round  and  looked  at 
the  disconsolate  figure. 

"  There  is  one  thing  you  might  do,"  she  said. 
"  I've  not  half  enough  barm.  There  are  two 
or  three  places  where  you  might  call  for  some; 
and  between  them  all  perhaps  you'll  get 
enough." 

She  then  mentioned  three  houses,  Farmer 
Hammond's  being  among  the  number. 

"  Yery  likely  the  Hammonds  would  oblige 
us,"  she  said.  "  They  are  neighborly  folk. 


32  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

They  live  at  the  Malt-House  Farm,  two  miles 
off.  You  can't  carry  the  jar,  but  you  can  take 
the  perambulator  and  wheel  it  back.  I've 
often  done  that  when  I  had  much  to  carry." 

Hieronymus  Howard  looked  doubtfully  at 
the  perambulator. 

"  Yery  well,"  he  said,  submissively.  "  I 
suppose  I  shall  only  look  like  an  ordinary 
tramp.  It  seems  to  be  the  fashion  to  tramp 
on  this  road  !" 

It  never  entered  his  head  to  rebel.  The 
great  jar  was  lifted  into  the  perambulator, 
and  Hieronymus  wheeled  it  away,  still  keeping 
up  his  dignity,  though  under  somewhat  trying- 
circumstances. 

"  I  rather  wish  I  had  not  mentioned  any- 
thing about  primary  glory,"  he  remarked  to 
himself.  "  However,  I  will  not  faint  by  the 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  33 

wayside ;  Mrs.  Benbow  is  a  person  not  lightly 

*••. 

to  be  disobeyed.  In  this  respect  she  reminds 
me  distinctly  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  or  Margaret 
of  Anjou,  with  just  a  dash  of  Napoleon 
Bonaparte !" 

So  he  walked  on  along  the  highroad.  Two 
or  three  tramps  passed  him,  wheeling  similar 
perambulators,  some  heaped  up  with  rags  and 
old  tins  and  umbrellas,  and  occasionally  a  baby  ; 
representing  the  sum  total  of  their  respective 
possessions  in  the  world.  They  looked  at  him 
with  curiosity,  but  no  pleasantry  passed  their 
lips.  There  was  nothing  to  laugh  at  in  Hier- 
onymus'  appearance  ;  there  was  a  quiet  dignity 
about  him  which  was  never  lost  on  any  one. 
His  bearing  tallied  with  his  character,  the 
character  of  a  mellowed  human  being.  There 
was  a  restfulness  about  him  which  had  soothed 


34  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

more  than  one  tired  person ;  not  the  restfulness 
of  stupidity,  but  the  repose  only  gained  by 
those  who  have  struggled  through  a  great  fever 
to  a  great  calm.  His  was  a  clean-shaven  face; 
his  hair  was  iron-gray.  There  was  a  kind  but 
firm  expression  about  his  mouth,  and  a  sus- 
picion of  humor  lingering  in  the  corners.  His 
eyes  looked  at  you  frankly.  There  seemed  to 
be  no  self-consciousness  in  his  manner  ;  long 
ago,  perhaps,  he  had  managed  to  get  away 
from  himself. 

He  enjoyed  the  country,  and  stopped  more 
than  once  to  pick  some  richly  tinted  leaf,  or 
some  tiny  flower  nestling  in  the  hedge.  He 
confided  all  his  treasures  to  the  care  of  the 
perambulator.  It  was  a  beautiful  morning, 
and  the  sun  lit  up  the  hills,  which  were  girt 
with  a  belt  of  many  gems :  a  belt  of  trees,  each 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  35 

rivaling  the  other  in  colored  luxuriance. 
Hieronymus  sang.  Then  he  turned  down  a 
lane  to  the  left  and  found  some  nuts.  He  ate 
these,  and  went  on  his  way  again,  and  at  last 
found  himself  outside  a  farm  of  large  and  im- 
portant aspect.  A  man  was  stacking  a  hay- 
rick. Hieronymus  watched  him  keenly, 

"  Good  gracious  !"  he  exclaimed ;  "  I  wish  I 
could  do  that.  How  on  earth  do  you  manage 
it  ?  And  did  it  take  you  long  to  learn  ?" 

The  man  smiled  in  the  usual  yokel  fashion, 
and  went  on  with  his  work.  Hieronymus 
plainly  did  not  interest  him. 

"Is  this  the  Malt-House  Farm?"  cried  Hier- 
onymus lustily. 

"What  else  should  it  be  ?"  answered  the  man. 

"  These  rural  characters  are  inclined  to  be 
one-sided,"  thought  Hieronymus,  as  he  opened 


36  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

the  gate  and  wheeled  the  perambulator  into 
the  pretty  garden.  "  It  seems  to  me  tbat  they 
are  almost  as  narrow-minded  as  the  people  who 
live  in  cities  and  pride  themselves  on  their 
breadth  of  view.  Almost — but  on  reflection, 
not  quite  !" 

He  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  porch,  and  a 
great  bustling  woman  opened  it.  He  explained 
his  mission  to  her,  and  pointed  to  the  jar  for 
the  barm. 

"  You  would  oblige  Mrs.  Benbow  greatly, 
ma'am,"  he  said.  "  In  fact,  we  cannot  get 
on  with  our  beer  unless  you  come  to  oar 
assistance." 

"  Step  into  the  parlor,  sir,"  she  said,  smiling, 
"and  I'll  see  how  much  we've  got.  I  think 
you  are  the  gentleman  who  fought  the  gypsies. 
You've  hurt  your  arm,  I  see." 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  37 

"Yes,  a  great  nuisance,"  he  answered 
cheerily ;  "  and  that  reminds  me  of  my  other 
quest.  I  want  some  one  to  write  for  me  an 
hour  or  two  every  day.  Mrs.  Benbow  men- 
tioned your  daughter,  the  young  lady  who 
came  to  us  on  the  white  horse  yesterday." 

He  was  going  to  add :  "  The  young  lady  who 
wishes  to  go  out  into  the  world ;"  but  he 
checked  himself,  guessing  by  instinct  that  the 
3Toung  lady  and  her  mother  had  probably  very 
little  in  common. 

"Perhaps,  though,"  he  said,  "  I  take  a  liberty 
in  making  the  suggestion.  If  so,  you  have 
only  to  reprove  me,  and  that  is  the  end 
of  it." 

"  Oh,  I  dare  say  she'd  like  to  write  for  you," 
said  Mrs.  Hammond,  "  if  she  can  be  spared 
from  the  butter  and  the  fowls.  She  likes  books 


38  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

and  pen  and  paper.  They're  things  as  I  don't 
favor." 

"  No,"  said  Hieronymus,  suddenly  filled  with 
an  overwhelming  sense  of  his  own  littleness ; 
"you  are  occupied  with  other  more  useful 
matters." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Hammond 
fervently.  "  Well,  if  you'll  be  seated,  I'll  send 
Joan  to  you,  and  I'll  see  about  the  barm." 

Hieronymus  settled  down  in  an  old  oak 
chair,  and  took  a  glance  at  the  comfortable 
paneled  room.  There  was  every  appearance 
of  ease  about  the  Malt  House  Farm,  and  yet 
Farmer  Hammond  and  his  wife  toiled  inces- 
santly from  morning  to  evening,  exacting  con- 
tinual labor  from  their  daughter  too.  There 
was  a  good  deal  of  brass- work  in  the  parlor :  it 
was  kept  spotlessly  bright. 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  39 

In  a  few  minutes  Joan  came  in.  She  car- 
ried the  jar. 

"  I  have  filled  the  jar  with  barm,"  she  said, 
without  any  preliminaries.  "  One  of  the  men 
can  take  it  back  if  you  like." 

"  Oh  no,  thank  you,"  he  said  cheerily,  look- 
ing at  her  with  some  interest.  "  It  came  in 
the  perambulator :  it  can  return  in  the  same 
conveyance." 

She  bent  over  the  table,  leaning  against  the 
jar.  She  smiled  at  his  words,  and  the  angry 
look  of  resentfulness,  which  seemed  to  be  her 
habitual  expression,  gave  way  to  a  more 
pleasing  one.  Joan  was  not  good-looking,  but 
her  face  was  decidedly  interesting.  She  was  of 
middle  stature,  slight  but  strong:  not  the 
typical  country  girl  with  rosy  cheeks,  but  pale, 
though  not  unhealthy.  She  was  dark  of  com- 


40  AT  THE  QUEEN  DRAGON. 

plexion :  soft  brown  hair,  over  which  she 
seemed  to  have  no  control,  was  done  into  a 
confused  mass  at  the  back,  untidy,  but  pleasing. 
Her  forehead  was  not  interfered  with:  you 
might  see  it  for  yourself,  and  note  the  great 
bumps  which  those  rogues  of  phrenologists 
delight  to  finger.  She  carried  her  head 
proudly,  and  from  certain  determined  little 
jerks  which  she  gave  to  it  you  might  judge 
somewhat  of  her  decided  character.  She  was 
dressed  in  a  dark  gown,  and  wore  an  apron  of 
coarse  linen.  At  the  most  she  was  nineteen 
years  of  age. 

Hieronymus  just  glanced  at  her,  and  could 
not  help  comparing  her  with  her  mother. 

"Well,"  he  said  pleasantly,  "and  now, 
having  settled  the  affairs  of  the  Green  Dragon, 
I  proceed  to  my  own.  Will  you  come  and  be 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  41 

my  scribbler  for  a  few  days  ?  Or  if  you  wish 
for  a  grander  title,  will  you  act  as  ray 
amanuensis?  I  am  sadly  in  need  of  a  little 
help.  I  have  found  out  that  you  can  help  me." 

"  I  don't  know  whether  you  could  read  my 
writing,"  she  said  shyly. 

"  That  does  not  matter  in  the  least,"  he 
answered.  "I  shan't  have  to  read  it.  Some 
one  else  will." 

"My  spelling  is  not  faultless,"  she  said. 

"  Also  a  trifle !"  he  replied.  "  Spelling,  like 
every  other  virtue,  is  a  relative  thing,  depend- 
ing largely  on  the  character  of  the  individual. 
Have  you  any  other  objection  ?" 

She  shook  her  head,  and  smiled  brightly  at 
him. 

"  I  should  like  to  write  for  you,"  she  said, 
"if  only  I  could  do  it  well  enough." 


42  AT  THE  GREEN  DHAGON. 

"I  am  sure  of  that,"  he  answered  kindly. 
"Mrs.  Benbow  tells  me  you  are  a  young  lady 
who  does  good  work.  I  admire  that  beyond 
everything.  You  fatten  up  the  poultry  well, 
you  make  butter  and  pastry  well — shouldn't  I 
just  like  to  taste  it !  And  I  am  sure  you  have 
cleaned  this  brass- work." 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  when  I'm  tired  of  every 
one  and  everything,  I  go  and  rub  up  the 
brasses  until  they  are  spotless.  When  I  am 
utterly  weary  of  the  whole  concern,  and  just 
burning  to  get  away  from  this  stupid  little 
village,  I  polish  the  candlesticks  and  handles 
until  my  arms  are  worn  out.  I  had  a  good 
turn  at  it  yesterday." 

"  Was  yesterday  a  bad  day  with  you  then  ?" 
he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered.     "  When  I  Avas  riding 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  43 

the  old  white  horse  yesterday,  I  just  felt  that 
I  could  go  on  riding,  riding  forever.  But 
she  is  such  a  slow  coach.  She  won't  go 
quickly !" 

"No,  I  should  think  you  could  walk  more 
quickly,"  said  Hieronymus.  "  Your  legs  would 
take  you  out  into  the  world  more  swiftly  than 
that  old  white  horse.  And  being  clear  of  this 
little  village,  and  being  out  in  the  great  world, 
what  do  you  want  to  do  ?" 

"  To  learn !"  she  cried ;  "  to  learn  to  know 
something  about  life,  and  to  get  to  have  other 
interests :  something  great  and  big,  something 
worth  wearing  one's  strength  away  for." 
Then  she  stopped  suddenly.  "What  a 
goose  I  am!"  she  said,  turning  away  half 
ashamed. 

"  Something   great   and   big,"  he  repeated. 


44  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGOX. 

"  Cynics  would  tell  you  that  you  have  a  weary 
quest  before  you.  But  I  think  it  is  very  easy 
to  find  something  great  and  big.  Only  it  all 
depends  on  the  strength  of  your  telescope. 
You  must  order  the  best  kind,  and  unfor- 
tunately one  can't  afford  the  best  kind  when 
one  is  very  young.  You  have  to  pay  for  your 
telescope,  not  with  money,  but  with  years. 
But  when  at  last  it  comes  into  your  possession 
— ah,  how  it  alters  the  look  of  things." 

He  paused  a  moment,  as  though  lost  in 
thought ;  and  then,  with,  the  brightness  so 
characteristic  of  him,  he  added  : 

"  Well,  I  must  be  going  home  to  my  humble 
duties  at  the  Green  Dragon,  and  you,  no  doubt, 
have  to  return  to  your'  task  of  feeding  up  the 
poultry  for  the  market.  When  is  market-day 
at  Church  Stretton?" 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  45 

"  On  Friday,"  she  answered. 

"  That  is  the  day  I  have  to  send  off  some  of 
ray  writing,"  he  said  ;  "  my  market-day,  also, 
you  see." 

"  Are  you  a  poet  ?"  she  asked  timidly. 

"  No,"  he  answered,  smiling  at  her ;  "  I  am 
that  poor  creature,  an  historian  :  one  of  those 
restless  persons  who  f  urridge  among  the  annals 
of  the  past." 

"  Oh,"  she  said  enthusiastically,  "  I  have 
always  cared  more  about  history  than  anything 
else !" 

"  Well,  then,  if  you  come  to-morrow  to  the 
Green  Dragon  at  eleven  o'clock,"  he  said 
kindly,  "  you  will  have  the  privilege  of  writing 
history  instead  of  reading  it.  And  now  I 
suppose  I  must  hasten  back  to  the  tyranny 
of  Queen  Elizabeth.  Can  you  lift  that 


46  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

jar    into    the     perambulator?      You     see    I 
can't." 

She  hoisted  it  into  the  perambulator,  and 
then  stood  at  the  gate,  watching  him  as  he 
pushed  it  patiently  over  the  rough  road, 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  47 


CHAPTEE  IV. 

THE    MAKING-    OF    THE    PASTKY. 

THAT  same  afternoon  Mrs.  Hammond  put  on 
her  best  things  and  drove  in  the  dogcart  to 
Minton,  where  Auntie  Lloyd  of  the  Tan-House 
Farm  was  giving  a  tea  party.  Joan  had 
refused  to  go.  She  had  a  profound  contempt 
for  these  social  gatherings,  and  Auntie  Lloyd 
and  she  had  no  great  love,  the  one  for  the 
other.  Auntie  Lloyd,  who  was  regarded  as  the 
oracle  of  the  family,  summed  Joan  up  in  a  few 
sentences  : 

"  She's  a  wayward  creature,  with  all  her 
fads  about  books  and  book  learning.  I've  no 


48  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

patience  with  her.  Fowls  and  butter  and  such 
things  have  been  good  enough  for  us;  why- 
does  she  want  to  meddle  with  things  which 
don't  concern  her?  She's  clever  at  her  work, 
and  diligent  too.  If  it  weren't  for  that,  there'd 
be  no  abiding  her." 

Joan  summed  Auntie  Lloyd  up  in  a  few 
words : 

"  Oh,  she's  Auntie  Lloyd,"  she  said,  shrug- 
ging her  shoulders. 

So  when  her  mother  urged  her  to  go  to 
Minton  to  this  tea  party,  which  was  to  be 
something  quite  special,  Joan  said : 

"  No,  I  don't  care  about  going.  Auntie 
Lloyd  worries  me  to  death.  And  what  with 
her,  and  the  rum  in  the  tea,  and  those  horrid 
crumpets,  I'd  far  rather  stay  at  home,  and 
make  pastry  and  read  a  book." 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRA  GON.  49 

So  she  stayed.  There  was  plenty  of  pastry 
in  the  larder,  and  there  seemed  no  particular 
reason  why  she  should  add  to  the  store.  But 
she  evidently  thought  differently  about  the 

matter,   for  she   went  into   the  kitchen    and 

i 
rolled  up  her  sleeves  and  began  her  work. 

"  I  hope  this  will  be  the  best  pastry  I  have 
ever  made,"  she  said  to  herself,  as  she  pre- 
pared several  jam-puffs  and  an  open  tart.  "  I 
should  like  him  to  taste  my  pastry.  An 
historian.  I  wonder  AY  hat  we  shall  write 
about  to-morrow." 

She  put  the  pastry  into  the  oven,  and  sat 
lazily  in  the  ingle,  nursing  her  knees,  and  mus 
ing.  She  was  thinking  the  whole  time  of 
Hieronymus,  of  his  kind  and  genial  manner, 
and  his  face  with  the  iron-gray  hair:  she 
would  remember  him  always,  even  if  she  never 


50  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

saw  him  again.  Once  or  twice  it  crossed  her 
mind  that  she  had  been  foolish  to  speak  so  im- 
patiently to  him  of  her  village  life.  He 
would  just  think  her  a  silly  discontented  girl, 

and  nothing  more.     And 'yet  it  had  seemed  so 

* 
natural  to  talk  to  him  in  that  strain :  she  knew 

by  instinct  that  he  would  understand,  and  he 
was  the  first  she  had  ever  met  who  would  be 
likely  to  understand.  The  others — her  father, 
her  mother,  David  Ellis  the  exciseman,  who 
was  supposed  to  be  fond  of  her,  these  and 
others  in  the  neighborhood — what  did  they 
care  about  her  desire  to  improve  her  mind, 
and  widen  out  her  life,  and  multiply  her 
interests  ?  She  had  been  waiting  for  months, 
almost  for  years  indeed,  to  speak  openly  to 
some  one ;  she  could  not  have  let  the  chance 
go  by,  now  that  it  had  come  to  her. 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  51 

The  puffs  meanwhile  were  forgotten.  When 
at  last  she  recollected  them,  she  hastened  to 
their  rescue,  and  found  she  was  only  just  in 
time.  Two  were  burned :  she  placed  the  others 
in  a  dish,  and  threw  the  damaged  ones  on  the 
table.  As  she  did  so  the  kitchen  door 
opened,  and  the  exciseman  came  in,  and  seeing 
the  pastry,  he  exclaimed  : 

"  Oh,  Joan,  making  pastry !  Then  I'll  test 
it!" 

"  You'll  do  nothing  of  the  sort,"  she  said 
half  angrily,  as  she  put  her  hands  over  the 
dish.  "  I  won't  have  it  touched.  You  can  eat 
the  burnt  ones  if  you  like." 

"  Not  I,"  he  answered.  "  I  want  the  best. 
Why,  Joan,  what's  the  matter  with  you? 
You're  downright  cross  to-day." 

"  I'm  no  different  from  usual,"  she  said. 


52  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

"  Yes,  you  are,"  he  said ;  "  and  what's  more, 
you  grow  different  every  week." 

"I  grow  more  tired  of  this  horrid  little  vil- 
lage and  of  every  one  in  it,  if  that's  what  you 
mean,"  she  answered. 

He  had  thrown  his  whip  on  the  chair,  and 
stood  facing  her.  He  was  a  prosperous  man, 
much  respected,  and  much  liked  for  many 
miles  round  Little  Stretton.  It  was  an  open 
secret  that  he  loved  Joan  Hammond,  the  only 
question  in  the  village  being  whether  Joan 
would  have  him  when  the  time  came  for  him 
to  propose  to  her.  ]STo  girl  in  her  senses 
would  have  been  likely  to  refuse  the  excise- 
man ;  but  then  Joan  was  not  in  her  senses,  so 
that  anything  might  be  expected  of  her.  At 
least  such  was  the  verdict  of  Auntie  Lloyd, 
who  regarded  her  niece  with  the  strictest  dis- 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  53 

approval.  Joan  had  always  been  more  friendly 
with  David  than  with  anyone  else ;  and  it  was  no 
doubt  this  friendlinesSj  remarkable  in  one  who 
kept  habitually  apart  from  others,  which  had 
encouraged  David  to  go  on  hoping  to  win  her, 
not  by  persuasion  but  by  patience.  He  loved 
her,  indeed  he  had  always  loved  her ;  and  in 
the  old  days,  when  he  was  a  schoolboy  and 
she  was  a  little  baby  child,  he  had  left  his 
companions  to  go  and  play  with  his  tiny  girl- 
friend up  at  the  Malt-House  Farm.  He  had 
no  sister  of  his  own,  and  he  liked  to  nurse  and 
pet  the  querulous  little  creature  who  was 
always  quiet  in  his  arms.  He  could  soothe 
her  when  no  one  else  had  any  influence.  But 
the  years  had  come  and  gone,  and  they  had 
grown  apart ;  not  he  from  her,  but  she  from 
him.  And  now  he  stood  in  the  kitchen  of  the 


54  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

old  farm,  reading  in  her  very  manner  the  an- 
swer to  the  question  which  he  had  not  yet 
asked  her.  That  question  was  always  on  his 
lips:  how  many  times  had  he  not  said  it 
aloud  when  he  rode  his  horse  over  the  country  ? 
But  Joan  was  forbidding  of  late  months,  and 
especially  of  late  weeks,  and  the  exciseman  had 
always  told  himself  sadly  that  the  right  mo- 
ment had  not  yet  come.  And  to-day,  also,  it 
was  not  the  right  moment.  A  great  sorrow 
seized  him,  for  he  longed  to  tell  her  that  he 
loved  and  understood  her,  and  that  he  was 
yearning  to  make  her  happy.  She  should 
have  books  of  her  own ;  books,  books,  books  : 
he  had  already  bought  a  few  volumes  to  form 
the  beginning  of  her  library.  They  were  not 
well  chosen,  perhaps,  but  there  they  were, 
locked  up  in  his  private  drawer.  He  was  not 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  55 

learned,  but  he  would  learn  for  her  sake.  All 
this  flashed  through  his  mind  as  he  stood  be- 
fore her.  He  looked  at  her  face,  and  could 
not  trace  one  single  expression  of  kindliness  or 
encouragement. 

"  Then  I  must  go  on  waiting,"  he  thought, 
and  he  stooped  and  picked  up  his  whip. 

"  Good-by,  Joan,"  he  said  quietly. 

The  kitchen  door  swung  on  its  hinges,  and 
Joan  was  once  more  alone. 

"  An  historian,"  she  said  to  herself,  as  she 
took  away  the  rolling-pin,  and  put  the  pastry 
into  the  larder.  "I  wonder  what  we  shall 
write  about  to-morrow." 


56  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 


CHAPTER  Y. 

PASTKT    AND    PERSONAL   MONARCHY. 

JOAN  sat  in  the  parlor  of  the  Green  Dragon, 
waiting  until  Hieronymus  had  finished  eating 
a  third  jam-puff,  and  could  pronounce  himself 
ready  to  begin  dictating.  A  few  papers  were 
scattered  about  on  the  table,  and  Gamboge 
was  curled  up  on  the  hearth-rug.  Joan  was 
radiant  with  pleasure,  for  this  was  her  near- 
est approach  to  intellectuality;  a  new  world 
had  opened  to  her  as  though  by  magic.  And 
she  was  radiant  with  another  kind  of  pleasure : 
this  was  only  the  third  time  she  had  seen  the 
historian,  and  each  time  she  was  the  happier. 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  57 

It  was  at  first  a  little  shock  to  her  sense  of 
intellectual  propriety  that  the  scholar  yonder 
could  condescend  to  so  trivial  a  matter  as 
pastry  ;  but  then  Hieronymus  had  his  own  way 
about  him,  which  carried  conviction  in  the 
end. 

"Well,"  he  said  cheerily.  "I  think  I  am 
ready  to  begin.  Dear  me !  What  excellent 
pastry !" 

Joan  smiled,  and  dipped  her  pen  in  the 
ink. 

"And  to  think  that  David  nearly  ate  it," 
she  said  to  herself.  And  that  was  about  the 
first  time  she  had  thought  of  him  since  yester- 
day. 

Then  the  historian  began.  His  language 
was  simple  and  dignified,  like  the  man  himself. 
His  subject  was  "An  Introduction  to  the 


58  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

Personal  Monarchy,  which  began  with  the 
reign  of  Henry  VIII."  Everything  he  said 
was  crystal-clear*  Moreover,  he  had  that  rare 
gift,  the  power  of  condensing  and  of  suggest- 
ing too.  He  was  nothing  if  not  an  impression- 
ist. Joan  had  no  difficulty  in  keeping  pace 
with  him,  for  he  dictated  slowly.  After  nearly 
two  hours  he  left  oif,  and  gave  a  great  sigh  of 
relief. 

"  There  now,"  he  said,  "  that's  enough  for 
to-day."  And  he  seemed  just  like  a  school- 
boy released  from  lessons. 

"  Come,  come,"  he  added,  as  he  looked  over 
the  manuscript.  "  I  shall  be  quite  proud  to 
send  that  in  to  the  printer.  You  would  make 
a  capital  little  secretary.  You  are  so  quiet 
and  you  don't  scratch  with  your  pen  :  qualities 
which  are  only  too  rare.  Well,  we  shall  be 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  59 

able  to  go  on  with  this  work,  if  you  can  spare 
the  time  and  will  oblige  me.  And  we  must 
make  some  arrangement  about  money 
matters." 

"  As  for  that,"  said  Joan  hastily,  "  it's  such 
a  change  from  the  never-ending  fowls  and  that 
everlasting  butter." 

"  Of  course  it  is,"  said  Hieronymus,  as  he 
took  his  pipe  from  the  mantel-shelf.  "  But  all 
the  same,  we  will  be  business-like.  Besides 
consider  the  advantage ;  you  will  be  earning  a 
little  money  with  which  you  can  either  buy 
books  to  read,  or  fowls  to  fatten  up.  You  can 
take  your  choice,  you  know." 

"  I  should  choose  the  books,"  she  said,  quite 
fiercely. 

"  How  spiteful  you  are  about  those  fowls !" 
he  said. 


60  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

"  So  would  you  be,  if  you  had  been  looking 
after  them  all  your  life,"  Joan  answered,  still 
more  fiercely. 

"  There  is  no  doubt  about  you  being  a  vol- 
canic young  lady,"  Hieronymus  remarked 
thoughtfully.  "  But  I  understand.  I  was  also 
a  volcano  once.  I  am  now  extinct.  You  will 
be  extinct  after  a  few  years,  and  you  will  be 
so  thankful  for  the  repose.  But  one  has  to 
go  through  a  great  many  eruptions  as  prelimi- 
naries to  peace." 

"  Any  kind  of  experience  is  better  than  none 
at  all,"  Joan  said,  more  gently  this  time. 
"  You  can't  think  how  I  dread  a  life  in  which 
nothing  happens.  I  want  to  have  my  days 
crammed  full  of  interests  and  events.  Then  I 
shall  learn  something ;  but  here — what  can  one 
learn  ?  You  should  just  see  Auntie  Lloyd,  and 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON,  61 

be  with  her  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  When 
you've  seen  her,  you've  seen  the  whole  neigh- 
borhood. Oh,  how  I  dislike  her  !" 

Her  tone  of  voice  expressed  so  heartily  her 
feelings  about  Auntie  Lloyd  that  Hieronymus 
laughed,  and  Joan  laughed  too. 

She  had  put  on  her  bonnet,  and  stood  ready 
to  go  home.  The  historian  stroked  Gamboge, 
put  away  his  papers,  and  expressed  himself 
inclined  to  accompany  Joan  part  of  the 
way. 

He  ran  into  the  kitchen  to  tell  Mrs.  Benbow 
that  he  would  not  be  long  gone. 

"  Dinner  won't  be  ready  for  quite  an  hour," 
she  said,  "  as  the  butcher  came  so  late.  But 
here  is  a  cup  of  beef-tea  for  you.  You  look 
rather  tired."  * 

"I've  had  such  a  lot  of  pastry,"  Hieronymus 


62  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

pleaded,  and  he  turned  to  Mr.  Benbow,  who 
had  just  come  into  the  kitchen  followed  by 
his  faithful  collie.  "  I  don't  feel  as  though  I 
could  manage  the  beef-tea." 

"  It's  no  use  kicking  against  the  traces,"  said 
Mr.  Benbow  laughing.  "  I've  found  that  out 
long  ago.  Sarah  is  a  tyrant." 

But  it  was  evidently  a  tyranny  which  suited 
him  very  well,  for  there  seemed  to  be  a  kind 
of  settled  happiness  between  the  host  and 
hostess  of  the  Green  Dragon.  Some  such 
thought  passed  through  Hieronymus'  mind  as 
he  gulped  down  the  beef-tea,  and  then  started 
off  happily  with  Joan. 

"  I  like  both  the  Benbows,"  he  said  to  her. 
"  And  it  is  very  soothing  to  be  with  people 
who  are  happy  together.  I'm  cozily  housed 
there,  and  not  at  all  sorry  to  have  had  my 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  63 

plans  altered  by  the  gypsies ;  especially  now 
that  I  can  go  on  with  my  work  so  comfortably. 
My  friends  in  Wales  may  wait  for  me  as  long 
as  they  choose." 

Joan  would  have  wished  to  tell  him  how 
glad  she  was  that  he  was  going  to  stay.  But 
she  just  smiled  happily.  He  was  so  bright 
himself  that  it  was  impossible  not  to  be  happy 
in  his  company. 

"I'm  so  pleased  I  have  done  some  dictating 
to-day,"  he  said,  as  he  plucked  an  autumn  leaf 
and  put  it  into  his  buttonhole.  "  And  now  I 
can  enjoy  myself  all  the  more.  You  cannot 
think  how  I  do  enjoy  the  country.  These 
hills  are  so  wonderfully  soothing.  I  never 
remember  being  in  a  place  where  the  hills  have 
given  me  such  a  sense  of  repose  as  here.  Those 
words  constantly  recur  to  me : 


64  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

"  '  His  dews  drop  mutely  on  the  hill, 

His  cloud  above  it  saileth  still. 

(Though  on  its  slopes  men  sow  and  reap). 

More  softly  than  the  dew  is  shed, 

Or  cloud  is  floated  overhead, 

He  giveth  His  beloved  sleep.' 

"  It's  all  so  true,  you  know,  and  yonder  are 
the  slopes  cultivated  by  men.  I  am  always 
thinking  of  these  words  here.  They  match 
with  the  hills  and  they  match  with  my 
feelings." 

"  I  have  never  thought  about  the  hills  in 
that  way,"  she  said. 

"No,"  he  answered,  kindly,  "because  you 
are  not  tired  yet.  But  when  you  are  tired, 
not  with  imaginary  battlings,  but  with  the 
real  campaigns  of  life,  then  you  will  think  about 
the  dews  falling  softly  on  the  hills." 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  65 

"  Are  you  tired,  then  ?"  she  asked. 

"  I  have  been  very  tired,"  he  answered 
simply. 

They  walked  on  in  silence  for  a  few 
minutes,  and  then  he  added :  "  You  wished 
for  knowledge,  and  here  you  are  surrounded 
by  opportunities  for  attaining  to  it." 

"  I  have  never  found  Auntie  Lloyd  a  specially 
interesting  subject  for  study,"  Joan  said 
obstinately.  • 

Hieronynms  smiled. 

"  I  was  not  thinking  of  Auntie  Lloyd,"  he 
said.  "  I  was  thinking  of  all  these  beautiful 
hedges,  these  lanes  with  their  countless 
treasures,  and  this  stream  with  its  bed  of 
stones,  and  those  hills  yonder;  all  of  them 
eloquent  with  the  wonder  of  the  earth's 
history.  You  are  literally  surrounded  with 


66  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

the  means  of  making  your  minds  beautiful, 
you  country  people.  And  why  don't  you  do 
it?" 

Joan  listened.  This  was  new  language  to 
her. 

Hieronymus  continued : 

"  The  sciences  are  here  for  you.  They  offer 
themselves  to  you,  without  stint,  without 
measure.  Nature  opens  her  book  to  you. 
Have  you  ever  tried  to  read  it  ?  From  the 
things  which  fret  and  worry  our  souls,  from 
the  people  who  worry  and  fret  us,  from  our 
selves  who  worry  and  fret  ourselves,  we  can  at 
least  turn  to  Nature.  There  we  find  our  right 
place,  a  resting  place  of  intense  repose.  There 
we  lose  that  troublesome  part  of  ourselves,  our 
own  sense  of  importance.  Then  we  rest,  and 
not  until  then." 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  67 

"  Why  should  you  speak  to  me  of  rest  ?"  the 
girl  cried,  her  fund  of  patience  and  control 
coming  suddenly  to  an  end.  "  I  don't  want  to 
rest.  I  want  to  live  a  full,  rich  life,  crammed 
with  interests.  I  want  to  learn  about  life 
itself,  not  about  things.  It  is  so  absurd  to 
talk  to  me  of  rest.  You've  had  your  time  of 
unrest — you  said  so.  I  don't  care  about  peace 
and  repose  !  I  don't " 

She  left  off  as  suddenly  as  she  had  begun, 
fearing  to  seem  too  ill-mannered. 

"  Of  course  you  don't,"  he  said  gently,  "  and 
I'm  a  goose  to  think  you  should.  No,  you  will 
have  to  go  out  into  the  world,  and  to  learn  for 
yourself  that  it  is  just  the  same  there  as  every- 
where :  butter  and  cheese  making,  prize-win- 
ning, and  prize-losing,  and  very  little  satisfac- 
faction  either  over  the  winning  or  the  losing  ; 


68  Al  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

and  a  great  many  Auntie  Lloyds,  probably  a 
good  deal  more  trying  than  the  Little  Stretton 
Auntie  Lloyd.  Only,  if  1  were  you,  I  should 
not  talk  about  it  any  more.  I  should  just  go. 
Saddle  the  white  horse  and  go !  Get  your  ex- 
periences, thick  and  quick.  Then  you  will  be 
glad  to  rest." 

"  Are  you  making  fun  of  me  ?"  she  asked 
half  suspiciously,  for  he  had  previously  joked 
about  the  slow  pace  of  the  white  horse. 

"No,"  he  answered,  in  his  kind  way;  "  why 
should  I  make  fun  of  you  ?  We  cannot  all 
be  content  to  go  on  living  a  quiet  life  in  a  little 
village." 

At  that  moment  the  exciseman  passed  by  on 
horseback.  He  raised  his  hat  to  Joan,  and 
looked  with  some  curiosity  at  Hieronymus. 
Joan  colored.  She  remembered  that  she  had 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  69 

not  behaved  kindly  to  him  yesterday ;  and 
after  all,  he  was  David,  David  who  had  always 
been  good  to  her,  ever  since  she  could  remember. 

"  Who  was  that  ?"  asked  Hieronymus. 
"What  a  trim,  nice-looking  man!" 

"  He  is  David  Ellis,  the  exciseman,"  Joan 
said,  half  reluctantly. 

"  I  wonder  when  he  is  going  to  test  the  beer 
at  the  Green  Dragon,"  said  the  historian 
anxiously.  "  I  wouldn't  miss  that  for  anything. 
Will  you  ask  him  ?" 

Joan  hesitated.  Then  she  hastened  on  a  few 
steps,  and  called  "  David  !" 

David  turned  in  his  saddle,  and  brought  his 
horse  to  a  standstill.  He  wondered  what  Joan 
could  have  to  say  to  him. 

"  When  are  you  going  to  test  the  beer  at  the 
Green  Dragon  ?"  she  asked. 


70  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

"  Some  time  this  afternoon,"  he  answered. 
"  Why  do  you  want  to  know  ?" 

"  The  gentleman  who  is  staying  at  the  inn 
wants  to  know,"  Joan  said. 

"  Is  that  all  you  have  to  say  to  me  ?"  David 
asked  quietly. 

"  No,"  said  Joan,  looking  up  at  him.    u  There 

is  something  more :  about  that  pastry " 

-  But  just  then  Hieronymus  had  joined  them. 

"  If  you're  talking  about  pastry,"  he  said 
cheerily,  "  I  never  tasted  any  better  than  Miss 
Hammond's.  I  ate  a  dishful  this  morning !" 

The  exciseman  looked  at  Joan,  and  at  the 
historian. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  as  he  cracked  his  whip,  "  it 
tastes  good  to  those  who  can  get  it,  and  it  tastes 
bad  to  those  who  can't  get  it." 

And  with  that  he  galloped  away,  leaving 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  71 

Joan  confused,  and  Hieronymus  mystified.  He 
glanced  at  his  companion,  and  seemed  to  ex- 
pect that  she  would  explain  the  situation ;  but 
as  she  did  not  attempt  to  do  so  he  walked 
quietly  along  with  her  until  they  came  to  the 
short  cut  which  led  back  to  the  Green  Dragon. 
There  he  parted  from  her,  making  an  arrange- 
ment that  she  should  come  and  write  for  him 
on  the  morrow.  But  as  he  strolled  home  he 
said  to  himself,  "  I  am  much  afraid  that  I  have 
been  eating  some  one  else's  pastry !  "Well,  it 
was  very  good,  especially  the  jam-puffs !" 


72  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  EXCISEMAN'S  LIBRARY. 

DAVID  ELLIS  did  not  feel  genially  disposed 
toward  the  historian ;  and  yet  when  he  stood 
in  the  kitchen  of  the  Green  Dragon,  testing 
the  new  brew,  and  saw  Hieronymus  eagerly 
watching  the  process,  he  could  not  but  be 
amused.  There  was  something  about  Hier- 
onymus which  was  altogether  irresistible.  He 
had  a  power,  quite  unconscious  to  himself,  of 
drawing  people  over  to  his  side.  And  yet  he 
never  tried  to  win :  he  was  just  himself,  noth- 
ing more  and  nothing  less. 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  73 

"  I  am  not  wishing  to  pry  into  the  secrets  of 
the  profession,"  he  said  to  David  Ellis ;  "  but 
I  do  like  to  see  how  everything  is  done." 

The  exciseman  good-naturedly  taught  him 
how  to  test  the  strength  of  the  beer,  and  Hier- 
onymus  was  as  pleased  as  though  he  had  learnt 
some  great  secret  of  the  universe,  or  unearthed 
some  long-forgotten  fact  in  history. 

"  Are  you  sure  the  beer  comes  up  to  its 
usual  standard  ?"  he  asked  mischievously,  turn- 
ing to  Mrs.  Benbow  at  the  same  time.  "  Are 
you  sure  It  has  nothing  of  the  beef-tea  element 
about  it  ?  We  drink  beef-tea  by  the  quart  in 
this  establishment.  I'm  allowed  nothing 
else." 

David  laughed,  and  said  it  was  the  best  beer 
in  the  neighborhood ;  and  with  that  he  left  the 
kitchen  and  went  into  the  ale-room  to  ex- 


74  AT  THE  OREKN  DRAGON. 

change  a  few  words  with  Mr.  Howells,  the 
proprietor  of  the  rival  inn,  who  always  came  to 
the  Green  Dragon  to  have  his  few  glasses  of 
beer  in  peace,  free  from  the  stormy  remon- 
strances of  his  wife.  Ever}'  one  in  Little 
Stretton  knew  his  secret,  and  respected  it. 
Hieronymus  returned  to  his  parlor,  where  he 
was  supposed  to  be  deep  in  study. 

After  a  few  minutes  some  one  knocked  at 
the  door,  and  David  Ellis  came  in. 

"  Excuse  me  troubling  you,"  he  said,  rather 
nervously,  "  but  there  is  a  little  matter  I  wanted 
to  ask  you  about." 

"  It's  about  that  confounded  pastry !" 
thought  Hieronymus,  as  he  drew  a  chair  to 
the  fireside  and  welcomed  the  exciseman 
to  it. 

David  sank  down  into  it,  twisted   his  whip, 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  75 

and  looked  now  at  Hieronymus  and  now  at 
the  books  which  lay  scattered  on  the  table.  He 
evidently  wished  to  say  something,  but  he  did 
not  know  how  to  begin. 

"  I  know  what  you  want  to  say,"  said 
Hieronymus. 

"  No,  you  don't,"  answered  the  exciseman. 
"No  one  knows  except  myself." 

Hieronymus  retreated,  crushed,  but  rather 
relieved  too. 

Then  David,  gaining  courage,  continued : 

"  Books  are  in  your  line,  aren't  they  ?" 

"It  just  does  happen  to  be  my  work  to  know 
a  little  about  them,"  the  historian  answered. 
"  Are  you  interested  in  them  too  ?" 

"  Well,"  said  David,  hesitating,  "  I  can't  say 
I  read  them,  but  I  buy  them." 

"  Most   people  do  that,"  said   Hieronymus ; 


76  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

"  it  takes  less  time  to  buy  than  to  read,  and  we 
are  pressed  for  time  in  this  century." 

"You  see,"  said  the  exciseman,  "I  don't  buy 
the  books  for  myself,  and  it's  rather  awkward 
knowing  what  to  get.  Now  what  would  you 
get  for  a  person  who  was  really  fond  of 
reading :  something  of  a  scholar,  you  under- 
stand ?  That  would  help  me  for  my  next  lot." 

"  It  all  depends  on  the  taste  of  the  person," 
Hieronymus  said  kindly.  "  Some  like  poetry, 
some  like  novels  :  others  like  books  about  the 
moon,  and  others  like  books  about  the  north 
pole,  or  the  tropics." 

David  did  not  know  much  about  the  north 
pole  or  the  tropics,  but  he  had  certainly  bought 
several  volumes  of  poetry,  and  Hieronymus' 
words  gave  him  courage. 

"I  bought  several    books  of  poetry,"    he 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  77 

said,  lifting  his  head  up  with  a  kind  of  triumph 
which  was  unmistakable.  "  Cowper,  Mrs. 
Hemans " 

"  Yes,"  said  Hieronymus  patiently  . 

"  And  the  other  day  I  bought  Milton,"  con- 
tinued the  exciseman. 

"  Ah,"  said  the  historian,  with  a  faint  smile 
of  cheerfulness.  He  had  never  been  able  to 
care  for  Milton  (though  he  never  owned  it). 

"  And  now  I  thought  of  buying  this,"  said 
David,  taking  from  his  pocketbook  a  small  slip 
of  paper  and  showing  it  to  his  companion. 

Hieronymus  read :  "  Selections  from  Robert 
Browning." 

"  Come,  come  !"  he  said  cheerily,  "  this  is  a 
good  choice !" 

"  It  is  not  my  choice,"  said  David  simply. 
"  I  don't  know  one  fellow  from  the  other.  But 


78  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

the  man  at  the  shop  in  Ludlow  told  me  it  was 
a  book  to  have.  If  you  say  so  too,  of  course 
that  settles  the  matter." 

"  Well,"  said  Hieronymus,  "  and  what  about 
the  other  books  ?" 

"  1  tell  you  what,"  said  David  suddenly,  "  if 
you'd  come  to  my  lodgings  one  day,  you  could 
look  at  the  books  I've  got,  and  advise  me 
about  others.  That  would  be  the  shortest  and 
pleasantest  way." 

"  By  all  means,"  said  the  historian.  "  Then 
you  have  not  yet  given  away  your  gifts  ?" 

"  Not  yet,"  said  David  quietly.  "  I  am 
waiting  awhile." 

And  then  he  relapsed  into  silence  and  ti- 
midity, and  went  on  twisting  his  whip. 

Hieronymus  was  interested,  but  he  had  too 
much  delicate  feeling  to  push  the  inquiry,  and 


AT  THE!  GREEN  DRAGON.  79 

not  having  a  mathematical  mind  he  was  quite 
unable  to  put  two  and  two  together  without 
help  from  another  source.  So  he  just  went  on 
smoking  his  pipe,  wondering  all  the  time  what 
reason  his  companion  could  have  for  collect- 
ing a  library  beginning  with  Mrs.  Hemans. 

After  a  remark  about  the  weather  and  the 
crops — Hieronymus  was  becoming  quite  agri- 
cultural— David  rose  in  an  undecided  kind  of 
manner,  expressed  his  thanks,  and  took  his 
leave,  but  there  was  evidently  something  more 
he  wanted  to  say,  and  yet  he  went  away  with- 
out saying  it. 

"  I'm  sure  he  wants  to  speak  about  that 
pastry,"  thought  Hieronymus.  "  Confound  him ! 
Why  doesn't  he  ?" 

The  next  moment  the  door  opened,  and 
David  put  his  head  in. 


80  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAG  Off. 

"  There's  something  else  I  wanted  to  say," 
he  stammered  out.  "  The  fact  is,  I  don't  tell 
anybody  about  the  books  I  buy.  It's  my  own 
affair,  and  I  like  to  keep  it  to  myself.  But  I'm 
sure  I  can  trust  you." 

"I  should  just  think  you  could,"  Hieronymus 
answered  cheerily. 

So  he  promised  secrecy,  and  then  followed 
the  exciseman  to  the  door,  and  watched  him 
mount  his  horse  and  ride  off.  Mr.  Benbow 
was  coming  in  at  the  time,  and  Hieronymus 
said  some  few  pleasant  words  about  David  Ellis. 

"  He's  the  nicest  man  in  these  parts,"  Mr. 
Benbow  said  warmly.  ""We  all  like  him. 
Joan  Hammond  will  be  a  lucky  girl  if  she  gets 
him  for  a  husband." 

"  Is  he  fond  of  her,  then  ?"  asked  Hierony- 
mus. 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  81 

"  He  has  always  been  fond  of  her  since  I  can 
remember,"  Mr.  Benbow  answered. 

Then  Hieronymus,  having  received  this  valu- 
able assistance,  proceeded  carefully  to  put  two 
and  two  together. 

"Now  I  know  for  whom  the  exciseman 
intends  his  library !"  he  said  to  himself 
triumphantly. 


82  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 


CHAPTER  YII. 

AUNTIE  LLOYD  PROTESTS. 

AUNTIE  LLOYD  was  a  material,  highly  pros- 
perous individual,  utterly  bereft  of  all  ideas  ex- 
cept one ;  though,  to  be  sure,  the  one  idea  which 
she  did  possess  was  of  overwhelming  bulk, 
being,  indeed,  the  sense  of  her  own  superiority 
over  all  people  of  all  countries  and  all  cen- 
turies. This  was  manifest  not  only  in  the  way 
she  spoke,  but  also  in  the  way  she  folded  her 
hands  together  on  the  buckle  of  her  waist-belt, 
as  though  she  were  murmuring :  "  Thank 
heaven,  I  am  Auntie  Lloyd,  and  no  one  else !" 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  83 

All  her  relations,  and  indeed  all  her  neighbors, 
bowed  down  to  her  authority :  it  was  recog- 
nized by  every  one  that  the  mistress  of  the 
Tan-House  Farm  was  a  personage  who  must  not 
be  disobeyed  in  the  smallest  particular.  There 
had  been  one  rebel  in  the  camp  for  many  years 
now  :  Joan.  She  alone  had  dared  to  raise  the 
standard  of  revolt.  At  first  she  had  lifted  it 
only  an  inch  high ;  b'ut  strength  and  courage 
had  come  with  years,  and  now  the  standard 
floated  triumphantly  in  the  air.  And  to-day 
it  reached  its  full  height,  for  Auntie  Lloyd  had 
driven  over  to  the  Malt-House  Farm  to  protest 
with  her  niece  about  this  dictation,  and  Joan, 
though  she  did  not  use  the  exact  words,  had 
plainly  told  her  to  mind  her  own  business. 

Auntie      Lloyd      had     been     considerably 
"  worked  up "  ever  since  she  had  heard  the 


84  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

news  that  Joan  went  to  write  for  a  gentleman 
at  the  Green  Dragon.  Then  she  heard  that 
Joan  not  only  wrote  for  him,  but  was  also  seen 
walking  about  with  him  ;  for  it  Avas  not  at  all 
likely  that  an  episode  of  this  description 
would  pass  without  comment  in  Little  Stret- 
ton ;  and  Auntie  Lloyd  was  not  the  only 
person  who  remarked  and  criticised.  A  bad 
attack  of  sciatica  had  kept  her  from  interfering 
at  the  outset;  but  as  soon  as  she  was  even 
tolerably  well  she  made  a  descent  upon  the 
Malt-House  Farm,  having  armed  herself  with 
the  most  awe-inspiring  bonnet  and  mantle 
which  her  wardrobe  could  supply.  But  Joan 
was  proof  against  such  terrors.  She  listened 
to  all  Auntie  Lloyd  had  to  say,  and  merely 
remarked  that  she  did  not  consider  it  was  any 
one's  affair  but  her  own.  That  was  the  most 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  85 

overwhelming  statement  that  had  ever  been 
made  to  Auntie  Lloyd.  No  wonder  that  she 
felt  faint. 

"  It  is  distinctly  a  family  affair,"  she  said 
angrily.  "  If  you're  not  careful,  you'll  lose  the 
chance  of  David  Ellis.  You  can't  expect  him 
to  be  dangling  about  your  heels  all  his  life. 
He  will  soon  be  tired  of  waiting  for  your 
pleasure.  Do  you  suppose  that  he  too  does 
not  know  you  are  amusing  yourself  with  this 
newcomer  ?" 

Joan  was  pouring  out  tea  at  the  time, 
and  her  hand  trembled  as  she  filled  the 
cup. 

"  I  won't  have  David  Ellis  thrust  down  my 
throat  by  you  or  by  any  one,"  she  said 
determinedly. 

And  with  that  she  looked  at  her  watch,  and 


86  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

calmly  said  that  it  was  time  for  her  to  be  off 
to  the  Green  Dragon,  Mr.  Howard  having 
asked  her  to  go  in  the  afternoon  instead  of  the 
morning.  But  though  she  left  Auntie  Lloyd 
quelled  and  paralyzed,  and  was  conscious  that 
she  had  herself  won  the  battle  once  and  for 
all,  she  was  very  much  irritated  and  distressed 
too.  Hieronymus  noticed  that  something  was 
wrong  with  her. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?"  he  asked  kindly. 
"  Has  Auntie  Lloyd  been  paying  a  visit  to  the 
Malt-House  Farm,  and  exasperated  you  beyond 
all  powers  of  endurance  ?  Or  was  the  butter- 
making  a  failure  ?  Or  is  it  the  same  old  story 
— general  detestation  of  every  one  and  every- 
thing in  Little  Stretton,  together  with  an  in- 
ward determination  to  massacre  the  whole 
village  at  the  earliest  opportunity  ?" 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  87 

Joan  smiled,  and  looked  up  at  the  kind  face 
which  always  had  such  a  restful  influence  on 
her. 

"  I  suppose  that  is  the  root  of  the  whole 
matter,"  she  said. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  you,"  he  said  gently,  as  he 
turned  to  his  papers ;  "  but  I  think  you  are 
not  quite  wise  to  let  your  discontent  grow 
beyond  your  control.  Most  people,  you  know, 
when  their  lives  are  analyzed,  are  found  to 
have  but  sorry  material  out  of  which  to 
fashion  for  themselves  satisfaction  and  con- 
tentment." 

Her  face  flushed  as  he  spoke,  and  a  great 
peace  fell  over  her.  "When  she  was  with  him 
all  was  well  with  her  :  the  irritations  at  home, 
the  annoyances  either  within  or  without, 
either  real  or  imaginary,  and  indeed  all  worries, 


88  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

passed  for  the  time  out  of  her  memory.  David 
Ellis  was  forgotten,  Auntie  Lloyd  was  forgot- 
ten ;  the  narrow,  dull,  everyday  existence 
broadened  out  into  many  interesting  possibili- 
ties. Life  had  something  bright  to  offer  to 
Joan.  She  bent  happily  over  the  pages, 
thoroughly  enjoying  her  congenial  task  ;  and 
now  and  again  during  the  long  pauses  of 
silence,  when  Hieronymus  was  thinking  out 
his  subject,  she  glanced  at  his  kind  face  and 
his  silvered  head. 

And  restless  little  Joan  was  restful. 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  89 


CHAPTEE  VIII. 

THE   DISTANCE    GKOWS. 

So  THE  days  slipped  away,  and  Joan  came 
regularly  to  the  Green  Dragon  to  write  to  the 
historian's  dictation.  These  mornings  were  red- 
letter  days  in  her  life  ;  she  had  never  before  had 
anything  which  she  could  have  called  com- 
panionship, and  now  this  best  of  all  pleasures 
was  suddenly  granted  to  her.  She  knew  well 
that  it  could  not  last ;  that  very  soon  the 
historian  would  go  back  into  his  own  world, 
and  that  she  would  be  left  lonely,  lonelier  than 
ever.  But  meanwhile  she  was  happy.  She 


90  A  T  THE  GREEN  DRA  OOF. 

always  felt  after  having  been  with  him  as 
though  some  sort  of  peace  had  stolen  over 
her.  It  did  not  hold  her  long,  this  sense  of 
peace.  It  was  merely  that  quieting  influence 
which  a  mellowed  nature  exercises  at  rare 
moments  over  an  unmellowed  nature,  being 
indeed  a  snatch  of  that  wonderful  restfulness 
which  has  something  divine  in  its  essence. 
She  did  not  analyze  her  feelings  for  him,  she 
dared  not.  She  just  drifted  on,  dreaming. 
And  she  was  grateful  to  him  too,  for  she 
had  unburdened  her  heavy  heart  to  him.  and 
he  had  not  laughed  at  her  aspirations  and 
ambitions.  He  had  certainly  made  a  little 
fun  over  her,  but  not  in  the  way  which 
conveyed  contempt :  on  the  contrary,  his 
manner  of  teasing  gave  the  impression  of 
the  kindliest  sympathy.  He  had  spoken 


AT  THE  9REEN  DRAGON.  91 

sensible  words  of  advice  to  her,  too ;  not  in 
any  formal  set  lecture  —  that  would  have 
been  impossible  to  him — but  in  detached  sen- 
tences given  out  at  different  times,  with  words 
simple  in  themselves,  but  able  to  suggest  many 
good  and  noble  thoughts.  At  least  that  was 
what  Joan  gathered,  that  was  her  judgment 
of  him,  that  was  the  effect  he  produced  on  her. 
Then  he  was  not  miserly  of  his  learning.  He 
was  not  one  of  those  scholars  who  keep  their 
wisdom  for  their  narro  wand  appreciative  little 
set;  he  gave  of  his  best  to  every  one  with 
royal  generosity,  and  he  gave  of  his  best  to 
her.  He  saw  that  she  was  really  interested  in 
history,  and  that  it  pleased  her  to  hear  him 
talk  about  it.  Out  then  came  his  stores  of 
knowledge,  all  for  her  special  service !  But 
that  was  only  half  of  the  process ;  he  taught 


92  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

her  by  finding  out  from  her  what  she  knew, 
and  then  returning  her  knowledge  to  her  two- 
fold enriched.  She  was  eager  to  learn,  and 
he  was  interested  in  her  eagerness.  It  was  his 
nature  to  be  kind  and  chivalrous  to  every  one, 
and  he  was  therefore  kind  and  chivalrous  to 
his  little  secretary.  He  saw  her  constantly  in 
"  school  hours,"  as  he  called  the  time  spent  in 
dictating,  and  out  of  school  hours  too.  He 
took  such  an  interest  in  all  matters  connected 
with  the  village  that  he  was  to  be  found 
everywhere,  now  gravely  contemplating  the 
cows  and  comparing  them  with  Mr.  Benbow's 
herd,  now  strolling  through  the  market-place, 
and  now  passing  stern  criticisms  on  the  butter 
and  poultry,  of  which  he  knew  nothing.  Once 
he  even  tried  to  sell  Joan  Hammond's  butter 
to  Mrs.  Benbow. 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  93 

"  I  assure  you,  ma'am,"  he  said  to  the  land- 
lady of  the  Green  Dragon,  "  the  very  best 
cooking  butter  in  the  kingdom !  Taste  and 
see." 

"  But  it  isn't  cooking  butter !"  interposed 
Joan  hastily. 

But  she  laughed  all  the  same,  and  Hierony- 
mus,  much  humbled  by  his  mistake,  made  no 
more  attempts  to  sell  butter. 

He  seemed  thoroughly  contented  with  his 
life  at  Little  Stretton,  and  in  no  hurry  to  join 
his  friends  in  Wales.  He  was  so  genial  that 
every  one  liked  him  and  spoke  kindly  of  him. 
If  he  was  driving  in  the  pony-ca  rriage  and 
saw  any  children  trudging  home  after  school, 
he  would  find  room  for  four  or  five  of.  them 
and  take  them  back  to  the  village  in  triumph. 
If  he  met  an  old  woman  carrying  a  bundle  of 


94  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

wood,  he  immediately  transferred  the  load 
from  herself  to  himself,  and  walked  along  by 
her  side,  chatting  merrily  the  while.  As  for 
the  tramps  who  passed  on  the  highroad  from 
Ludlow  to  Church  Stretton,  they  found  in  him 
a  sympathetic  friend.  His  hand  was  always 
in  his  pocket  for  them.  He  listened  to  their 
tales  of  woe,  and  stroked  the  "  property" 
baby  in  the  perambulator,  and  absolutely 
refused  to  be  brought  to  order  by  Mrs.  Ben- 
bow,  who  declared  that  she  knew  more  about 
tramps  than  he  did,  and  that  the  best  thing  to 
do  with  them  was  to  send  them  about  their 
business  as  soon  as  possible. 

"  You  will  ruin  the  reputation  of  the  Green 
Dragon,"  she  said,  "  if  you  go  on  entertaining 
tramps  outside.  Take  your  friends  over  to  the 
other  inn !" 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  95 

She  thought  that  this  would  be  a  strong  argu- 
ment, as  Hieronymus  was  particularly  proud 
of  the  Green  Dragon,  having  discovered  that 
it  was  patronized  by  the  aristocrats  of  the 
village,  and  considered  infinitely  superior  to 
its  rival,  the  Crown  Inn  opposite. 

But  the  historian,  so  yielding  in  other  re- 
spects, continued  his  intimacies  with  the  tramps, 
sometimes  even  leaving  his  work  if  he  chanced 
to  see  an  interesting-looking  wanderer  slouch- 
ing past  the  Green  Dragon.  Joan  had  become 
accustomed  to  these  interruptions.  She  just 
sat  waiting  patiently  until  Hieronymus  came 
back,  and  plunged  once  more  into  the  History 
of  the  Dissolution  of  the  Monasteries,  or  the 
Attitude  of  the  Foreign  Powers  to  each  other 
during  the  latter  years  of  Henry  VIII. 

"  I'm  a  troublesome  fellow,"  he  would  say  to 


96  AT  THE  OREKN  DRAGON. 

her  sometimes,  "  and  you  are  very  patient  with 
me.  In  fact,  you're  a  regular  little  brick  of  a 
secretary." 

Then  she  would  flush  with  pleasure  to  hear 
his  words  of  praise.  But  he  never  noticed 
that,  and  never  thought  he  was  leading  her 
further  and  further  away  from  her  surround- 
ings and  ties,  and  putting  great  distances  be- 
tween herself  and  the  exciseman. 

So  little  did  he  guess  it  that  one  day  he  even 
ventured  to  joke  with  her.  He  had  been  talk- 
ing to  her  about  John  Richard  Green,  the 
historian,  and  he  asked  her  whether  she  had 
read  "  A  Short  History  of  the  English  People." 
She  told  him  she  had  never  read  it. 

"  Oh,  you  ought  to  have  that  book,"  he  said ; 
and  he  immediately  thought  that  he  would  buy 
it  for  her.  Then  he  remembered  the  excise- 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  97 

man's  library,  and  judged  that  it  would  be 
better  to  let  him  buy  it  for  her. 

"  I  hear  you  have  a  very  devoted  admirer 
in  the  exciseman,"  Hieronymus  said  slyly. 

"  How  do  you  know  that?"  Joan  said  sharply. 

"  Oh,"  he  answered,  "  I  was  told."  But  he 
saw  that  his  volcanic  little  companion  was  not 
too  pleased  ;  and  so  he  retraced  his  words  and 
began  talking  again  of  John  Richard  Green. 
He  told  her  about  the  man  himself,  his  work, 
his  suffering,  his  personality.  He  told  her  how 
the  young  men  at  Oxford  were  advised  to 
travel  on  the  Continent  to  expand  their  minds, 
and  if  they  could  not  afford  this  advantage 
after  their  university  career,  then  they  were  to 
read  John  Richard  Green.  He  told  her,  too, 
of  his  grave  at  Mentone,  with  the  simple  "words, 
"  He  died  learning." 


98  A  T  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

Thus  he  \vould  talk  to  her,  taking  her  always 
into  a  new  world  of  interest.  Then  she  was  in 
an  enchanted  kingdom,  and  he  was  the 
magician. 

It  was  a  world  in  which  agriculture  and 
dai^-farming  and  all  the  other  wearinesses  of 
her  everyday  life  had  no  part.  Some  people 
might  think  it  was  but  a  poor  enchanted  realm 
which  he  conjured  up  for  her  pleasure.  But 
enchantment,  like  every  other  emotion,  is  but 
relative  after  all.  Some  little  fragment  of 
intellectuality  had  long  been  Joan's  idea  of 
enchantment.  And  now  it  had  come  to  her  in 
a  way  altogether  unexpected,  and  in  a  measure 
beyond  all  her  calculations.  It  had  come  to 
her,  bringing  with  it  something  else. 

She  seemed  in  a  dream  during  all  that  time : 
yes,  she  was  slipping  further  away  from  her 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  99 

own  people,  and  further  away  from  the  excise- 
man. She  had  never  been  very  near  to  him, 
but  lately  the  distance  had  become  doubled. 
When  she  chanced  to  meet  him  her  manner 
was  more  than  ordinarily  cold.  If  he  had 
chosen  to  plead  for  himself,  he  might  well 
have  asked  what  he  had  done  to  her  that  he 
should  deserve  to  be  treated  with  such  bare 
unfriendliness. 

One  day  he  met  her.  She  was  riding  the 
great  white  horse,  and  David  rode  along  beside 
her.  She  chatted  with  him  now  and  again, 
but  there  were  long  pauses  of  silence  between 
them. 

"  Father  has  made  up  his  mind  to  sell  old 
Nance,"  she  said  suddenly,  as  she  stroked  the 
old  mare's  head.  "  This  is  ray  last  ride  on 
her." 


100  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  said  David  kindly.  "  She's 
an  old  friend,  isn't  she  ?" 

"  I  suppose  it  is  ridiculous  to  care  so  much," 
Joan  said ;  "  but  you  know  we've  had  her  such  a 
time.  And  I  used  to  hang  round  her  neck, 
and  she  would  lift  me  up  and  swing  me." 

"  I  remember,"  said  David  eagerly.  "  I've 
often  watched  you.  I  was  always  afraid  you 
would  have  a  bad  fall." 

"  You  ran  up  and  caught  me  once,"  Joan 
said.  "  And  I  was  so  angry ;  for  it  wasn't 
likely  that  old  Nance  would  have  let  me  fall." 

"But  how  could  I  be  sure  that  the  little  arms 
were  strong  enough  to  cling  firmly  to  old 
Nance's  neck  ?"  David  said.  "  So  I  couldn't 
help  being  anxious." 

"  Do  you  remember  when  I  was  lost  in  that 
mist,"  Joan  said,  "  and  you  came  and  found 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  101 

me,  and  carried  me  home?  I  was  so  angry 
that  you  would  not  let  me  walk." 

"You  have  often  been  angry  with  me," 
David  said  quietly. 

Joan  made  no  answer.  She  just  shrugged 
her  shoulders. 

There  they  were,  these  two,  riding  side  by 
side,  and  yet  they  were  miles  apart  from  each 
other.  David  knew  it,  and  grieved. 


102  AT  THE  QREEN  DRAGON. 


CHAPTEK  IX. 

DAVID    LAMENTS. 

DAVID  knew  it,  and  grieved.  He  knew  that 
Joan's  indifference  was  growing  apace,  and 
that  it  had  taken  to  itself  alarming  proportions 
ever  since  the  historian  had  been  at  the  Green 
Dragon.  He  had  constantly  met  Joan  and 
Hieronymus  together,  and  heard  of  them  being 
together,  and  of  course  he  knew  that  Joan 
wrote  to  the  historian's  dictation.  He  never 
spoke  on  the  subject  to  any  one.  Once  or 
twice  Auntie  Lloyd  tried  to  begin,  but  he 
looked  straight  before  him  and  appeared  not  to 


A  T  THK  GREEN  DRAGON.  103 

understand.  Once  or  twice  some  other  of  the 
folk  made  mention  of  the  good-fellowship 
which  existed  between  Joan  and  the  historian. 

"  Well,  it's  natural  enough,"  he  said  quietly. 
"  Joan  was  always  fond  of  books,  and  one  feels 
glad  she  can  talk  about  them  with  some  one 
who  is  real  clever." 

But  was  he  glad  ?  Poor  David !  Time 
after  time  he  looked  at  his  little  collection  of 
books,  handling  the  volumes  just  as  tenderly 
as  one  handles  one's  memories,  or  one's  hopes, 
or  one's  old  affections.  *He  had  not  added  to 
the  library  since  he  had  spoken  tollieronymus 
and  asked  his  advice  on  the  choice  of  suitable 
subjects.  He  had  no  heart  to  go  on  with  a 
hobby  which  seemed  to  have  no  comfort  in  it. 

To-night  he  sat  in  his  little  sitting-room 
smoking  his  pipe.  He  looked  at  his  books  as 


104  AT  THIS  G REEN  D HA GON. 

usual,  and  then  locked  them  up  in  his  oak 
chest.  .  He  sat  thinking  of  Joan  and  Hier- 
onymus.  There  was  no  bitterness  in  David's 
heart ;  there  was  only  sorrow.  He  shared 
with  others  a  strong  admiration  for  Hier- 
onymus,  an  admiration  which  the  historian 
never  failed  to  win,  though  it  was  often  quite 
unconsciousl}7  given,  and  always  quite  uncon- 
sciously received.  So  there  was  only  sorrow 
in  David's  heart,  and  no  bitterness. 

The  clock  was  striking  seven  of  the  evening 
when  some  one  knocked  at  the  door,  and 
Hieronymus  came  into  the  room.  He  was  in  a 
particularly  genial  mood,  and  puffed  his  pipe 
in  great  contentment.  He  settled  down  by 
the  fireside  as  though  he  had  been  there  all 
his  life,  and  chatted  away  so  cheerily  that 
David  forgot  his  own  melancholy  in  his  pleas- 


AT  THK  GREEN  DRAGON.  105 

ure  at  having  such  a  bright  companion.  A 
bottle  of  whisky  was  produced,  and  the  cozi- 
ness  was  complete. 

"  Now  for  the  books !"  said  Hieronymus. 
"  I  am  quite  anxious  to  see  your  collection. 
And  look  here  :  I  have  made  a  list  of  suitable 
books  which  any  one  would  like  to  have. 
Now  show  me  what  you  have  already  bought." 

David's  misery  returned  all  in  a  rush,  and  he 
hesitated. 

"  I  don't  think  I  care  about  the  books  now," 
he  said. 

"  "What  nonsense !''  said  Hieronymus. 
"  You're  not  shy  about  showing  them  to  me  ? 
I  am  sure  you  have  bought  some  capital  good 
ones." 

"  Oh,  it  wasn't  that,"  David  said  quietly,  as 
he  unlocked  the  oak  chest  and  took  out  the 


106  AT  THE  OEEEN  DRAGON. 

precious  volumes  and  laid  them  on  the  table. 
In  spite  of  himself,  however,  some  of  the  old 
eagerness  came  over  him,  and  he  stood  by, 
waiting  anxiously  for  the  historian's  approval. 
Hieronymus  groaned  over  Mrs.  Hemans' 
poetry,  and  Locke's  "  Human  Understanding," 
and  Defoe's  "  History  of  the  Plague,"  and 
Cowper,  and  Hannah  More.  He  groaned  in- 
wardly, but  outwardly  he  gave  grunts  of  en- 
couragement. He  patted  him  on  the  shoulder 
when  he  found  "  Selections  from  Browning," 
and  he  almost  caressed  him  when  he  proudly 
produced  "  Silas  Marner." 

Yes,  David  was  proud  of  his  treasures : 
each  one  of  them  represented  to  him  a  whole 
world  of  love  and  hope  and  consolation. 

Hieronymus  knew  for  whom  the  books 
were  intended,  and  he  was  touched  by  the 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON  107 

exciseman's  quiet  devotion  and  pride.  He 
would  not  have  hurt  David's  feelings  on  any 
account :  he  would  have  praised  the  books, 
however  unsuitable  they  might  have  seemed  to 
him. 

"My  dear  fellow,"  he  said,  "you've  done 
capitally  by  yourself.  You've  chosen  some 
excellent  books.  Still,  this  list  may  help  you 
to  go  on,  and  I  should  advise  you  to  begin 
with  Green's  'History  of  the  English  People.'  " 

David  put  the  volumes  back  into  the  oak  chest. 

"I  don't  think  I  care  about  buying  any 
more,"  he  said  sadly.  "  It's  no  use." 

"  Why  ?"  asked  Hieronymus. 

David  looked  at  the  historian's  frank  face, 
and  felt  the  same  confidence  in  him  Avhich  all 
felt.  He  looked,  and  knew  that  his  man  was 
loyal  and  good. 


108  A  T  THE  GKKEN  DHAOON. 

""Well,  it's  just  this,"  David  said,  quite 
simply.  "  I've  loved  her  ever  since  she  was  a 
baby-child.  She  was  my  own  little  sweetheart 
then.  I  took  care  of  her  when  she  was  a  wee 
thing,  and  I  wanted  to  look  after  her  when 
she  was  a  grown  woman.  It  has  just  been 
the  hope  of  my  life  to  make  Joan  my  wife." 

He  paused  a  moment,  and  looked  straight 
into  the  fire. 

"  I  know  she  is  different  from  others,  and 
cleverer  than  any  of  us  here,  and  all  that.  I 
know  she  is  always  longing  to  get  away  from 
Little  Stretton.  But  I  thought  that  perhaps 
we  might  be  happy  together,  and  that  then 
she  would  not  want  to  go.  But  I've  never 
been  quite  sure.  I've  just  watched  and 
waited.  I've  loved  her  all  her  life.  "When 
she  was  a  wee  baby  I  carried  her  about,  and 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  iQtj 

knew  how  to  stop  her  crying.  She  has 
always  been  kinder  to  me  than  to  any  one 
else.  It  was  perhaps  that  which  helped  me  to 
be  patient.  At  least,  I  knew  she  did  not  care 
for  any  one  else.  It  was  just  that  she  didn't 
seem  to  turn  to  any  one." 

He  had  moved  away  from  Hieronymus,  and 
stood  knocking  out  the  ashes  from  his  pipe. 

Hieronymus  was  silent. 

"  At  least,  I  knew  she  did  not  care  for  any 
one  else,"  continued  David,  "  until  you  came. 
Kow  she  cares  for  you." 

Hieronymus  looked  up  quickly. 

"  Surely,  surely,  you  must  be  mistaken,"  he 
said. 

David  shook  his  head. 

"No,"  he  answered,  "I'm  not  mistaken. 
And  I'm  not  the  only  one  who  has  noticed  it. 


110  AT  THE  GRBKN  DRA GON. 

Since  you've  been  here,  my  little  Joan  has 
gone  further  and  further  away  from  me." 

"  I  am  sorry,"  said  Hieronymus.  He  had 
taken  his  tobacco-pouch  from  his  pocket,  and 
was  slowly  filling  his  pipe. 

"  I  have  never  meant  to  work  a  harm  to  her 
or  you,  or  any  one,"  the  historian  said  sadly. 
"  If  I  had  thought  I  was  going  to  bring 
trouble  to  any  one  here,  I  should  not  have 
stayed  on.  But  I've  been  very  happy  among 
you  all,  and  you've  all  been  good  to  me  ;  and 
as  the  days  went  on  I  found  myself  becoming 
attached  to  this  little  village.  The  life  was  so 
simple  and  refreshing,  and  I  was  glad  to  have 
the  rest  and  the  change.  Your  little  Joan  and 
I  have  been  much  together,  it  is  true.  She 
has  written  to  my  dictation,  and  I  found  her 
so  apt  that,  long  after  my  hand  became  well 


A T  THE  G KEEN  DRAGON.  HI 

again,  I  preferred  to  dictate  rather  than  to 
write.  Then  we've  walked  together,  and 
we've  talked  seriously  and  merrily,  and  sadly 
too.  We've  just  been  comrades:  nothing 
more.  She  seemed  to  me  a  little  discontented, 
and  I  tried  to  interest  her  in  things  I  happen 
to  know,  and  so  take  her  out  of  herself.  If  I 
had  had  any  idea  that  I  was  doing  more  than 
that,  I  should  have  left  off  at  once.  I  hope 
you  don't  doubt  me." 

'•  I  believe  every  word  you  say,"  David  said. 

"  I  am  grateful  for  that,"  Hieronymus  said, 
and  the  two  men  grasped  hands. 

"  If  there  is  anything  I  could  do  to  repair 
my  thoughtlessness,"  he  said,  "I  will  gladly  do 
it.  But  it  is  difficult  to  know  what  to  do  and 
what  to  say.  For  perhaps,  after  all,  you  may 
be  mistaken." 


1 12  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

The  exciseman  shook  his  head. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  I  am  not  mistaken.  It  has 
been  getting  worse  ever  since  you  came. 
There  is  nothing  to  say  about  it;  it  can't  be 
helped.  It's  just  that  sort  of  thing  which 
sometimes  happens :  no  one  is  to  blame,  but 
the  mischief  is  done  all  the  same.  I  don't 
know  why  I've  told  you  about  it.  Perhaps  I 
meant  to,  perhaps  I  didn't.  It  seemed  to 
come  out  naturally  enough  when  we  were 
talking  of  the  books." 

He  was  looking  mournfully  at  the  list  which 
Hieronymus  had  drawn  out  for  him. 

"I  don't  see  that  it's  any  use  to  me,"  he 
said. 

He  was  going  to  screw  it  up  and  throw  it 
into  the  fire,  but  the  historian  prevented  him. 

"  Keep  it,"  he  said  kindly.     "  You  may  yet 


Al  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  H3 

want  it.  If  I  were  you,  I  should  go  on  collect- 
ing a  library.  I  should  go  on  patiently  adding 
book  after  book,  and  with  each  book  you  buy, 
buy  a  little  hope  too.  Who  knows  ?  Some  day 
your  little  Joan  may  want  you.  But  she  will 
have  to  go  out  into  the  world  first  and  fight 
her  battles.  She  is  one  of  those  who  must  go 
out  into  the  world  and  buy  her  experiences  for 
herself.  Those  who  hinder  her  are  only  hurt- 
ing her.  Don't  try  to  hinder  her.  Let  her  go. 
Some  day  when  she  is  tired  she  will  be  glad 
to  lean  on  some  one  whom  she  can  trust.  But 
she  must  be  tired  first,  and  thus  find  out  her 
necessity.  And  it  is  when  we  find  out  our 
necessity  that  our  heart  cries  aloud.  Then  it 
is  that  those  who  love  us  will  not  fail  us. 
They  will  be  to  us  like  the  shadow  of  a  great 
rock  in  a  dry  land." 


114  AT  THE  O KEEN  DRA GON. 

David  made  no  answer,  but  he  smoothed  out 
the  crumpled  piece  of  paper  and  put  it  care- 
fully into  his  pocketbook. 


A T  THE  GREEN  D RAGON.  1  15 


CHAPTER  X. 

HIERONTMTTS    SPEAKS. 

HIEKONYMUS  was  unhappy :  the  exciseman 
might  or  might  not  be  mistaken,  but  the  fact 
remained  that  some  mischief  had  been  done, 
inasmuch  as  David  Ellis'  feelings  were 
wounded.  Hierony  in  us  felt  that  the  best  thing 
for  him  to  do  was  to  go,  though  he  quite  deter- 
mined to  wait  until  he  saw  the  hill-ponies 
gathered  together.  There  was  no  reason  why 
he  should  hasten  away  as  though  he  were 
ashamed  of  himself.  He  knew  that  not  one 
word  had  been  spoken  to  Joan  which  he  now 
wished  to  recall.  His  position  was  a  delicate 


116  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

one.  He  thought  seriously  over  the  matter,  and 
wondered  how  he  might  devise  a  means  of 
telling  her  a  little  about  his  own  life,  and  thus 
showing  her,  without  seeming  to  show  her, 
that  his  whole  heart  was  filled  with  the 
memories  of  the  past.  He  could  not  say  to 
Joan :  "  My  little  Joan,  my  little  secretary, 
they  tell  me  that  I  have  been  making  havoc  of 
your  heart.  Now  listen  to  me,  child.  If  it  is 
not  true,  then  I  am  glad.  And  if  it  is  true,  I 
am  sad :  because  I  have  been  wounding  you 
against  my  knowledge,  and  putting  you  through 
suffering  which  I  might  so  easily  have  spared 
you.  You  will  recover  from  the  suffering ; 
but  alas !  little  Joan,  that  I  should  have  been 
the  one  to  wound  you." 

He   could   not   say  that  to  her,  though  he 
would  have  wished  to  speak  some  such  words. 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  117 

But  the  next  morning  after  his  conversation 
with  David  Ellis  he  sat  in  the"  parlor  of  the 
Green  Dragon  fondling  the  ever-faithful  Gam- 
boge. 

Joan  Hammond  looked  up  once  or 
twice  from  her  paper,  wondering  when  the 
historian  would  begin  work.  He  seemed  to  be 
taking  a  long  time  this  morning  to  rouse  him- 
self to  activity. 

"  I  shall  take  Gamboge  with  me  when  I  go," 
he  said  at  last.  "  I've  bought  her  for  half-a- 
crown.  That  is  a  paltry  sum  to  give  for  such 
a  precious  creature." 

"  Are  you  thinking  of  going  then  ?"  asked 
Joan  fearfully. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  cheerily.  "  I  must  just 
wait  to  see  those  rascals,  the  hill-ponies,  and 
then  I  must  go  back  to  the  barbarous  big 


118  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

world,   into  which    you    are    so    anxious    to 
penetrate." 

"  Father  has  determined  to  sell  Nance,"  she 
said,  sadly,  "  so  I  can't  saddle  the  white  horse 
and  be  off." 

"  And  you  are  sorry  to  lose  your  old  friend  ?" 
he  said  kindly. 

"  One  has  to  give  up  everything,"  she 
answered. 

"  Not  everything,"  Hieronymus  said.  "  Not 
the  nasty  things  for  instance — only  the  nice 
things !" 

Joan  laughed  and  dipped  her  pen  into  the 
ink. 

"  The  truth  of  it  is,  I'm  not  in  the  least 
inclined  to  work  this  morning,"  said  Hierony- 
mus. 

Joan  waited,  the  pen  in  her  hand.     He  had 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  119 

said  that  so  many  times  before,  and  yet  he  had 
always  ended  by  doing  some  work  after  all. 

"  I  believe  that  my  stern  task-rnistress,  my 
dear  love  who  died  so  many  years  ago — I 
believe  that  even  she  would  give  me  a  holiday 
to-day,"  Hieronymus  said.  "  And  she  always 
claimed  so  much  work  of  me ;  she  was  never 
satisfied.  I  think  she  considered  me  to  be  a 
lazy  fellow,  who  needed  spurring  on.  She  had 
great  ambitions  for  me ;  she  believed  every- 
thing of  me,  and  wished  me  to  work  out  her 
ambitions,  not  for  the  sake  of  the  fame  and  the 
name,  but  for  the  sake  of  the  good  it  does  us 
all  to  grapple  with  ourselves." 

He  had  drawn  from  his  pocket  a  small 
miniature  of  a  sweet-looking  woman.  It  was  a 
spiritual  face,  with  tender  eyes:  a  face  to 
linger  in  one's  memory. 


120  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

"When  she  first  died,"  Hieronymus  con- 
tinued, as  though  to  himself,  "  I  could  not  have 
written  a  line  without  this  dear  face  before  me. 
It  served  to  remind  me  that  although  I  was 
unhappy  and  lonely,  I  must  work  if  only  to 
please  her.  That  is  what  I  had  done  when  she 
was  alive,  and  it  seemed  disloyal  not  to  do  so 
when  she  was  dead.  And  it  was  the  only 
comfort  I  had ;  but  a  strong  comfort  filling 
full  the  heart.  It  is  ten  years  now  since  she 
died ;  but  I  scarcely  need  the  miniature,  the 
dear  face  is  always  before  me.  Ten  years  ago, 
and  I  am  still  alive,  and  sometimes,  often 
indeed,  very  happy.  She  would  have  wished 
me  to  be  happy  :  she  was  always  glad  when  I 
laughed  cheerily,  or  made  some  fun  out  of 
nothing.  "  What  a  stupid  boy  you  are !"  she 
would  say.  But  she  laughed  all  the  same. 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  121 

We  were  very  happy  together,  she  and  I :  we 
had  loved  each  other  a  long  time,  in  spite  of 
many  difficulties  and  troubles.  But  the 
troubles  had  cleared,  and  we  were  just  going 
to  make  our  little  home  together  when  she 
died." 

There  was  no  tremor  in  his  voice  as  he 
spoke. 

"  We  enjoyed  everything,"  he  went  on ; 
"  every  bit  of  fun,  every  bit  of  beauty — the 
mere  fact  of  living  and  loving,  the  mere  fact 
of  the  world  being  beautiful,  the  mere  fact  of 
there  being  so  much  to  do  and  to  be  and  to 
strive  after.  I  was  not  very  ambitious  for 
myself.  At  one  time  I  had  cared  greatly ; 
then  the  desire  had  left  me.  But  when  she 
first  came  into  my  life  she  roused  me  from  my 
lethargy :  she  loved  me,  and  did  not  wish  me 


122  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

to  pause  one  moment  in  my  life's  work.  The 
old  ambitions  had  left  me,  but  for  her  sake  I 
revived  them :  she  was  my  dear  good  angel, 
but  always,  as  I  told  her,  a  stern  task-giver. 
Then  when  she  was  gone,  and  I  had  not  her 
dear  presence  to  help  me,  I  just  felt  I  could 
not  go  on  writing  any  more.  Then  I  remem- 
bered how  ambitious  she  was  for  me,  and  so  I 
did  not  wait  one  moment.  I  took  up  my  work 
at  once,  and  have  tried  to  earn  a  name  and  a 
fame  for  her  sake." 

He  paused  a  moment,  and  stirred  the 
fire  uneasily. 

"  It  was  very  difficult  at  first,"  he  continued ; 
"  everything  was  difficult.  And  even  now, 
after  ten  years,  it  is  not  always  easy.  And  I 
cared  so  little.  That  was  the  hardest  part  of 
all:  to  learn  to  care  again.  But  the  years 


AT  THE  OREKN  DRAGON.  123 

pass,  and  we  live  through  a  tempest  of  grief, 
and  come  out  into  a  great  calm.  In  the 
tempest  we  fancied  we  were  alone ;  in  the 
calm  we  know  that  we  have  not  been  alone : 
that  the  dear  face  has  been  looking  at  us 
lovingly,  and  the  dear  voice  speaking  to  us 
through  the  worst  hours  of  the  storm,  and  the 
dear  soul  knitting  itself  closer  and  closer  to 
our  soul." 

Joan  bent  over  the  paper. 

"  So  the  days  have  passed  into  weeks  and 
months  and  years,"  he  said,  "  and  here  am  I, 
still  looking  for  my  dear  love's  blessing  and 
approval ;  still  looking  to  her  for  guidance,  to 
her  and  no  one  else.  Others  may  be  able  to 
give  their  heart  twice  over,  but  I  am  not  one 
of  those.  People  talk  of  death  effacing  love !  as 
though  death  and  love  could  have  any  dealings 


124  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

the  one  with  the  other.  They  always  were 
strangers ;  they  always  will  be  strangers.  So 
year  after  year  I  mourn  for  her,  in  my  own  way, 
cheerily,  happily,  sorrowfully,  and  always  ten- 
derly ;  sometimes  with  laughter,  and  sometimes 
with  tears.  When  I  see  all  the  beautiful  green 
things  of  the  world,  and  sing  from  very  de- 
light, I  know  she  would  be  glad.  "When  I 
make  a  good  joke  or  turn  a  clever  sentence,  I 
know  she  would  smile  her  praise.  When  I  do 
my  work  well,  I  know  she  would  be  satisfied. 
And  though  I  may  fail  in  all  I  undertake,  still 
there  is  the  going  on  trying.  Thus  I  am  always 
a  mourner,  offering  to  her  just  that  kind  of 
remembrance  which  her  dear  beautiful  soul 
would  cherish  most." 

He  was  tenderly  handling  the  little  minia- 
ture. 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  125 

"May  I  see  the  face?"  Joan  asked  very 
gently. 

He  put  the  miniature  in  her  hands.  She 
looked  at  it,  and  then  returned  it  to  him,  almost 
reverently. 

"  And  now,  little  secretary,"  he  said,  in  his 
old  cheery  way,  "  I  do  believe  I  could  do  some 
work  if  I  tried.  It's  only  a  question  of  will- 
power. Come,  dip  your  pen  in  the  ink,  and 
write  as  quickly  as  you  can." 

He  dictated  for  nearly  an  hour,  and  then 
Joan  slipped  off  quickly  home. 

Up  in  her  little  bedroom  it  was  ail  in  vain 
that  she  chased  the  tears  from  her  face.  They 
came  again,  and  they  came  again. 

"  He  has  seen  that  I  love  him,"  she  sobbed. 
"And  that  was  his  dear  kind  way  of  telling  me 
that  I  was  a  foolish  little  child.  Of  course  I 


126  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

was  a  foolish  little  child,  but  I  couldn't  help  it ! 
Indeed  I  couldn't  help  it.     And  I  must  go  on 
crying.     No  one  need  know." 
So  she  went  on  crying,  and  no  one  knew. 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  127 


CHAPTER  XL 

HIERONYMUS    GOES. 

THEY  were  captured,  those  little  wretches, 
the  hill-ponies,  having  been  chased  down  from 
all  directions,  and  gathered  together  in  the 
enclosure  set  apart  for  their  imprisonment. 
There  they  were,  crib  bed,  cabined,  and  confined, 
some  of  them  distressed,  and  all  of  them  highly 
indignant  at  the  rough  treatment  which  they 
had  received.  This  gathering  together  of  the 
wild  ponies  occurred  two  or  three  times  in  the 
year,  when  the  owners  assembled  to  identify 


128  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

their  particular  herd,  and  to  re-impress  their 
mark  on  the  ponies  which  belonged  to  them. 
It  was  no  easy  matter  to  drive  them  down 
from  the  hills  ;  though  indeed  they  came  down 
willingly  enough  at  night  to  seek  what  they 
might  devour.  Then  one  might  hear  their 
little  feet  pattering  quickly  over  the  ground, 
helter-skelter !  The  villagers  were  well  accus- 
tomed to  the  sound.  "  It's  only  the  hill-ponies, 
the  rascals !"  they  would  say.  But  when  they 
were  wanted,  they  would  not  come.  They  led 
the  beaters  a  rare  dance  over  hill  and  dale ; 
but  it  always  ended  in  the  same  way.  Then, 
after  four  or  five  years  of  life  on  the  hills, 
their  owners  sold  them,  and  that  was  the 
end  of  all  their  fun  and  all  their  shagginess 
too. 
Hieronymus  stood  near  the  enclosure  watch- 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  129 

ing  the  proceedings  with  the  greatest  interest. 
The  men  were  trying  to  divide  the  ponies  into 
groups,  according  to  the  mark  on  their  backs. 
But  this  was  no  easy  matter  either :  the  little 
creatures  kicked  and  threw  themselves  about 
in  every  direction  but  the  right  one,  and  they 
were  so  strong  that  their  struggles  were  gener- 
ally successful.  The  sympathies  of  Hieronymus 
went  with  the  rebels,  and  he  was  much 
distressed  when  he  saw  three  men  Hanging  on 
to  the  tail  of  one  of  the  ponies,  and  trying  to 
keep  him  back  from  another  group. 

"  I  say,  you  there !"  he  cried,  waving  his 
stick.  "  I  can't  stand  that." 

Mrs.  Benbow,  who  was  standing  near  him, 
laughed,  and  called  him  to  order. 

"Now  don't  you  be  meddling  with  what  you 
don't  understand,"  she  said.  *'  You  may  know 


130  ^  T  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

a  good  deal  about  books,  but  it's  not  much 
you'll  know  about  bill-ponies." 

"  That's  quite  true,"  said  Hieronymus 
humbly. 

"  Come  along  with  me  now,"  commanded 
Mrs.  Benbow,  "and  help  me  buy  a  -red 
pig!" 

Nothing  but  a  red  pig  would  have  made 
Hieronymus  desert  the  hill-ponies.  A  red  pig 
was  of  course  irresistible  to  any  one  in  his 
senses ;  and  the  historian  followed  contentedly 
after  the  landlady  of  the  Green  Dragon.  She 
made  her  way  among  the  crowds  of  people  who 
had  come  to  this  great  horse-fair,  which  was 
the  most  important  one  of  the  whole  year. 
Hieronymus  was  much  interested  in  every  one 
and  everything  he  saw :  he  looked  at  the 
horses,  and  sheep,  and  cows,  and  exchanged 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  131 

conversation  with  any  one  who  would  talk  to 
him. 

"  There's  a  deal  of  money  will  change  hands 
to-day,"  said  a  jolly  old  farmer  to  him.  "  But 
prices  be  dreadful  low  this  year.  Why,  the 
pigs  be  going  for  a  mere  nothing." 

"  I'm  going  to  buy  a  pig,"  Hieronymus  said 
proudly,  "  a  red  one." 

"  Ah,"  said  the  farmer,  looking  at  him  with 
a  sort  of  indulgent  disdain,  "  it's  a  breed  as  I 
care  nothing  about." 

Then  he  turned  to  one  of  his  colleagues,  evi- 
dently considering  Hieronymus  rather  a  feeble 
sort  of  individual,  with  whom  it  was  not  profit- 
able to  talk. 

The  historian  was  depressed  for  the  moment, 
but  soon  recovered  his  spirits  when  he  saw  the 
fascinating  red  pigs.  And  his  pride  and  con- 


132  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

ceit  knew  no  bounds  when  Mrs.  Benbow  actu- 
ally chose  and  bought  the  very  animal  which 
he  had  recommended  to  her  notice.  He  saw 
.David  Ellis,  and  went  to  tell  him  about  the  pig. 
The  exciseman  laughed,  and  then  looked  sad 
again. 

"  My  little  Joan  is  very  unhappy,"  he  said, 
half  in  a  whisper.  "  The  old  white  horse  is  to 
be  sold.  Do  you  see  her  there  yonder?  How 
I  wish  I  could  buy  the  old  mare  and  give  her 
to  Joan !" 

"  That  would  be  a  very  unwise  thing  for  you 
to  do,"  said  Ilieronymus. 

"  Yes,"  said  David.  "  And  do  you  know, 
I've  been  thinking  of  what  you  said  about  her 
going  out  into  the  world.  And  I  found  this 
advertisement.  Shall  I  give  it  to  her  ?" 

Hieronymus  looked  at  it. 


AT  THK  GREEN  DRAGON.  133 

"  You're  a  dear  fellow,  David,"  he  said 
warmly.  "  Yes,  give  it  to  her.  And  I  too 
have  been  thinking  of  what  you  said  to  me. 
I've  told  her  a  little  of  my  story,  and  she 
knows  now  how  my  heart  is  altogether  taken 
up  with  my  past.  So,  if  I've  done  any  harm 
to  her  and  you,  I  have  tried  to  set  it  right. 
And  to-morrow  I  am  going  home.  You  will 
see  me  off  at  the  station  ?" 

"  I'll  be  there,"  said  the  exciseman. 

But  there  was  no  sign  in  his  manner  that  he 
wished  to  be  rid  of  Hieronymus.  The  histo- 
rian, who  all  unconsciously  won  people's  hearts, 
all  unconsciously  kept  them  too.  Even  Auntie 
Lloyd,  to  whom  he  had  been  presented,  owned 
that  he  "  had  a  way  "  about  him.  (But  then  he 
had  asked  after  her  sciatica !)  He  spoke  a  few 
words  to  Joan,  who  stood  lingering  near  the 


134  AT  THE  GREEN  7JRAOON. 

old  white  mare.  She  had  been  a  little  shy  of 
him  since  he  had  spoken  so  freely  to  her ;  and 
he  had  noticed  this,  and  used  all  his  geniality 
to  set  her  at  her  ease  again. 

"  This  is  my  last  afternoon,"  he  said  to  her, 
"and  I  have  crowned  the  achievements  of  my 
visit  here  by  choosing  a  red  pig.  Now  I'm 
going  back  to  the  big  barbarous  world  to  boast 
of  my  new  acquirements — brewing  beer,  eating 
pastry,  drinking  beef-tea,  cutting  up  the  beans, 
making  onion  pickles,  and  other  odd  jobs  as- 
signed to  me  by  Queen  Elizabeth  of  the  Green 
Dragon.  Here  she  comes  to  fetch  me,  for  we 
are  going  to  drive  the  red  pig  home  in  the 
cart.  Then  I'm  to  have  some  tea  with  rum  in 
it,  and  some  of  those  horrible  Shropshire 
crumpets.  Then  if  I'm  still  alive  after  the 
crumpets  and  the  rum,  there  will  be  a  few 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  135 

more  odd  jobs  for  me  to  do,  and  then  to-mor- 
row I  go.  As  for  yourself,  little  secretary,  you 
are  going  to  put  courage  into  your  heart,  and 
fight  your  battles  well.  Tell  me  ?" 

"  Yes,"  she  said ;  and  she  looked  up  brightly, 
though  there  were  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"  Do  you  know  those  words,  '  Hitch  your 
wagon  to  a  star  f  "  he  said.  "  Emerson  was 
right.  The  wagon  spins  along  merrily  then. 
And  now  good-by,  little  secretary.  You  must 
come  and  see  me  off  at  the  station  to-morrow. 
I  want  all  my  friends  around  me." 

So  on  the  morrow  they  gathered  round  him, 
Mr.  Benbow,  Mrs.  Benbow,  two  of  the  Malt- 
House  Farm  boys,  the  old  woman  who  kept 
the  grocer's  shop,  and  who  had  been  doing  a 
good  trade  in  sweetmeats  since  Hieronymus 
came,  the  exciseman,  and  Joan  Hammond,  and 


136  AT  THE  QUEEN  DRA GON. 

old  John  of  the  wooden  leg.  They  were  all 
there,  sorrowful  to  part  with  him,  glad  to  have 
known  him. 

"  If  you  would  only  stay,"  said  Mrs.  Ben- 
bow  ;  "  there  are  so  many  other  odd  jobs  for 
you  to  do !" 

"  No,  I  must  go,"  said  the  historian.  "  There 
is  an  end  to  everything,  excepting  to  your  beef 
tea!  But  I've  been  very  happy." 

His  luggage  had  increased  since  he  came  to 
Little  Stretton.  He  had  arrived  with  a  small 
portmanteau ;  he  went  away  with  the  same 
portmanteau,  an  oak  chair  which  Mr.  Benbow 
had  given  him,  and  a  small  hamper  containing 
Gamboge. 

"  Take  care  how  you  carry  that  hamper,"  he 
said  to  the  porter.  "  There  is  a  dog  inside  un- 
dergoing a  cat  incarnation !" 


AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON.  137 

To  Joan  he  said :  "  Little  secretary,  answer 
the  advertisement  and  go  out  into  the  world." 

And  she  promised. 

And  to  David  he  said:  "When  you've  fin- 
ished that  book-list  write  to  me  for  another 
one." 

And  he  promised. 

Then  the  train  moved  off,  and  the  dear  kind 
face  was  out  of  sight. 


Mrs.  Benbovv  went  home  to  do  the  scouring 
and  cleaning. 

David  rode  off  to  Ludlow  and  bought  a 
book. 

Joan  sat  in  her  room  at  the  Malt-House 
Farm,  and  cried  her  heart  out.  Then  she 
looked  at  the  advertisement  and  answered  it. 


138  AT  THE  GREEN  DRAGON. 

"  It  was  kind  of  David;"  she  said. 

So  David  sent  Joan  out  into  the  world. 

The  weeks,  the  months,  seem  long  without 
her.  He  buys  his  books,  and  with  every  new 
book  he  buys  new  comfort.  He  recalls  the 
historian's  words :  "  Some  day,  when  she  is 
tired,  she  will  be  glad  to  lean  on  some  one 
whom  she  can  trust." 

So  David  waits. 

THE   END. 


AN  IDYLL  OF  LONDON. 


BY    BEATRICE    HARRADEN. 


IT  WAS  one  o'clock,  and  inany  of  the  stu- 
dents in  the  National  Gallery  had  left  off  work 
and  were  refreshing  themselves  with  lunch  and 
conversation.  There  was  one  old  worker  who 
had  not  stirred  from  his  place,  but  he  had  put 
down  his  brush,  and  had  taken  from  his 
pocket  a  small  book,  which  was  like  its  owner, 
thin  and  shabby  of  covering.  He  seemed  to 
find  pleasure  in  reading  it,  for  he  turned  over 
its  pages  with  all  the  tenderness  characteristic 
of  one  who  loves  what  he  reads.  Now  and 
again  he  glanced  at  his  unfinished  copy  of  the 
beautiful  portrait  of  Andrea  del  Sarto,  and 


4  AN  IDYLL  OF  LONDON. 

once  his  eyes  rested  on  another  copy  next  to 
his,  better  and  truer  than  his;  and  once  he 
stooped  to  pick  up  a  girl's  prune-colored  tie 
which  had  fallen  from  the  neighboring  easel. 
After  this  he  seemed  to  become  unconscious  of 
his  surroundings,  as  much,  if  not  more,  uncon- 
scious than  any  one  of  the  pictures  near  him. 
Any  one  might  have  been  justified  in  mistak- 
ing him  for  the  portrait  of  a  man.  but  that  his 
lips  moved;  for  it  was  his  custom  to  read  softly 
to  himself. 

The  students  passed  back  to  their  places,  not 
troubling  to  notice  him,  because  they  knew 
from  experience  that  he  never  noticed  them, 
and  that  all  greetings  were  wasted  on  him, 
and  all  words  were  wanton  expenditure  of 
breath.  They  had  come  to  regard  him  very 
much  in  the  same  way  as  many  of  us  regard 
the  wonders  of  nature,  without  astonishment, 
without  any  questionings,  and  often  without 
any  interest.  One  girl,  a  newcomer,  did  chance 
to  say  to  her  companion  : 

"  How  ill  that  old  man  looks !" 

"  Oh,  he  always  looks  like  that,"  was  the 


AN  IDYLL  OF  LONDON.  5 

answer.  "  You  will  soon  get  accustomed  to 
him.  Come  along,  I  must  finish  my  '  Blind 
Beggar '  this  afternoon." 

In  a  fe\v  minutes  most  of  the  workers  were 
busy  again,  although  there  were  some  who 
continued  to  chat  quietly,  and  several  young 
men- who  seemed  reluctant  to  leave  their  girl- 
friends, and  who  were  by  no  means  encour- 
aged to  go.  One  young  man  came  to  claim 
his  book  and  pipe  which  he  had  left  in  the 
charge  of  a  bright-eyed  girl  who  was  copying 
Sir  Joshua's  Angels.  She  gave  him  his  treas- 
ures, and  received  in  exchange  a  dark-red  rose, 
which  she  fastened  in  her  belt ;  and  then  he 
returned  to  his  portrait  of  Mrs.  Siddons.  But 
there  was  something  in  his  disconsolate  manner 
which  made  one  suspect  that  he  thought  less  of 
Mrs.  Siddons'  beauty  than  of  the  beauty  of  the 
girl  who  was  wearing  the  dark-red  rose.  The 
strangers  passing  through  the  rooms  stopped 
now  and  again  to  peer  curiously  at  the  stu- 
dents' work.  They  were  stared  at  indignantly 
by  the  students  themselves,  but  they  made  no 
attempt  to  move  away,  aiid  even  ventured 


6  AN  IDYLL  OF  LONDON. 

sometimes  to  pass  criticisms  of  no  tender 
character  on  some  of  the  copies.  The  fierce- 
looking  man  who  was  copying  "The  Horse 
Fair"  deliberately  put  down  his  brushes, 
folded  his  armsy  and  waited  defiantly  until  they 
had  gone  by  ;  but  others,  wiser  in  their  gen- 
eration, went  on  painting  calmly.  Several 
workers  were  painting  the  new  Eaphael ;  one 
of  them  was  a  white-haired  old  gentlewoman, 
whose  hand  was  trembling,  and  yet  skillful 
still.  More  than  once  she  turned  to  give  a  few 
hints  to  the  young  girl  near  her,  \vlao  looked 
in  some  distress  and  doubt.  Just  the  needful 
help  was  given,  and  then  the  girl  plied 
her  brush  merrily,  smiling  the  while  with 
pleasure  and  gratitude.  There  seemed  to  be  a 
genial,  kindly  influence  at  work,  a  certain 
homeliness  too,  which  must  needs  assert  itself 
where  many  are  gathered  together,  working 
side  by  side.  All  made  a  harmony  :  the  won- 
derful pictures  collected  from  many  lands  and 
many  centuries,  each  with  its  meaning,  and  its 
message  from  the  Past ;  the  ever-present 
memories  of  the  painters  themselves,  who  had 


AN  IDYLL  OF  LONDON.  7 

worked  and  striven  and  conquered ;  and  the 
living  human  beings,  each  with  his  wealth  of 
earnest  endeavor  and  hope. 

Meanwhile,  the  old  man  read  on  uninter- 
ruptedly until  two  hands  were  put  over  his 
book,  and  a  gentle  voice  said  : 

"  Mr.  Lindall,  you  have  had  no  lunch  again. 
Do  you  know,  I  begin  to  hate  Lucretius.  He 
always  makes  you  forget  your  food." 

The  old  man  looked  up,  and  something  like 
a  smile  passed  over  his  joyless  face  when  he 
saw  Helen  Stanley  bending  over  him. 

"Ah!"  he  answered,  "you  must  not  hate 
L'icretius.  I  have  had  more  pleasant  hours 
v.  ith  him  than  with  any  living  person.'' 

He  rose,  and  came  forward  to  examine  her 
copy  or  Andrea  del  Sarto's  portrait. 

"  Yours  is  better  than  mine,"  he  said  critic- 
ally ;  "  in  fact,  mine  is  a  failure.  I  think  I 
shall  only  get  a  small  price  for  mine;  indeed, 
I  doubt  whether  I  shall  get  sufficient  to  pay  for 
my  funeral." 

"  You  speak  dismally,"  she  answered  smiling. 

"  I  missed  you  yesterday,"  he  continued  half 


8  AN  IDYLL  OF  LONDON. 

dreamily.  "  I  left  my  work,  and  I  wandered 
through  the  rooms,  and  I  did  not  even  read 
Lucretius.  Something  seemed  to  have  gone 
from  my  life ;  at  first  I  thought  it  must  be  my 
favorite  .Raphael,  or  the  Murillo,  but  it  was 
neither  the  one  nor  the  other — it  was  you. 
That  was  strange,  wasn't  it  ?  But  you  know 
we  get  accustomed  to  anything,  and  perhaps  I 
should  have  missed  you  less  the  second  day, 
and  by  the  end  of  a  week  I  should  not  have 
missed  you  at  all.  Mercifully  we  have  in  us 
the  power  of  forgetting." 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  plead  for  myself,"  she 
said,  u  but  I  do  not  believe  that  you  or  any 
one  could  really  forget.  That  which  outsiders 
call  forgetf ulness  might  be  called  by  the  better 
name  of  resignation." 

"  I  don't  care  about  talking  any  more  now," 
he  said  suddenly,  and  he  went  to  his  easel  and 
worked  silently  at  his  picture;  and  Helen 
Stanley  glanced  at  him  and  thought  she  had 
never  seen  her  old  companion  look  so  forlorn 
and  desolate  as  he  did  to-day.  He  looked  as  if 
no  gentle  hand  had  ever  been  placed  on  him  in 


AIT  IDYLL  OF  LONDON.  9 

kindliness  and  affection,  and  that  seemed  to 
her  a  terrible  thing,  for  she  was  one  of  those 
prehistorically-minded  persons  who  persist  in 
believing  that  affection  is  as  needful  to  human 
life  as  the  gracious  rain  to  flower-life.  When 
first  she  came  to  work  at  the  gallery — some 
twelve  months  ago — she  had  noticed  this  old 
man,  and  had  wished  for  his  companionship; 
she  was  herself  lonely  and  sorrowful,  and, 
although  young,  had  to  fight  her  own  battle, 
and  had  learned  something  of  the  difficulties  of 
that  battle,  and  this  had  given  her  an  experi- 
ence beyond  her  years.  She  was  not  more  than 
twenty-four  years  of  age,  but  she  looked  rather 
older,  and  though  she  had  beautiful  eyes,  full 
of  meaning  and  kindness,  her  features  were  de- 
cidedly plain  as  well  as  unattractive.  There 
were  some  in  the  Gallery  who  said  among 
themselves  jestingly,  that  as  Mr.  Lindall  had 
waited  so  many  years  before  talking  to  any 
one,  he  might  have  chosen  some  one  better 
worth  the  waiting  for;  but  they  soon  became 
accustomed  to  seeing  Helen  Stanley  and  Mr. 
Lindall  together,  and  they  laughed  less  than 


10  AN  IDYLL  OF  LONDON. 

before;  and  meanwhile  the  acquaintance 
ripened  into  a  sort  of  friendship,  half  sulky  on 
his  part,  and  wholly  kind  on  her  part.  He  told 
her  nothing  about  himself,  and  he  asked  noth- 
ing about  herself;  for  weeks  he  never  even 
knew  her  name.  Sometimes  he  did  not  speak 
at  all,  and  the  two  friends  would  work  silently 
side  by  side,  until  it  was  time  to  go ;  and  then 
he  waited  until  she  was  ready,  and  walked 
with  her  across  Trafalgar  Square,  where  they 
parted  and  went  their  own  ways. 

But  occasionally,  when  she  least  expected  it, 
he  would  speak  with  glowing  enthusiasm  on 
art;  then  his  eyes  seemed  to  become  bright, 
and  his  bent  figure  more  erect,  and  his  whole 
bearing  proud  and  dignified.  There  Avere  times, 
too,  when  he  would  speak  on  other  subjects: 
on  the  morality  of  free  thought,  and  on  those 
who  had  died  to  vindicate  free  thought,  on 
Bruno,  of  blessed  memory,  on  him  and  scores 
of  others  too.  He  would  speak  of  the  different 
schools  of  philosophy  ;  he  would  laugh  at  him- 
self and  at  all  who,  having  given  time  and 
thought  to  the  study  of  life's  complicated 


AN  IDYLL  OF  LONDON.  H 

problems,  had  not  reached  one  step  further 
than  the  old-\vorid  thinkers.  Perhaps  he 
would  quote  one  of  his  favorite  philosophers, 
and  then  suddenly  relapse  into  silence,  return- 
ing to  his  wonted  abstraction,  or  to  his  indif- 
ference to  his  surroundings.  Helen  Stanley 
had  learned  to  understand  his  ways  and  to  ap- 
preciate his  mind,  and,  without  intruding  on 
him  in  any  manner,  had  put  herself  gently  into 
his  life,  as  his  quiet  champion  and  his  friend. 
No  one,  in  her  presence,  dared  to  speak 
slightingly  of  the  old  man,  nor  to  make  fun  of 
his  tumble-down  appearance,  nor  of  his  worn- 
out  silk  hat  with  a  crack  in  the  side,  nor  of  his 
rag  of  a  black  tie,  which,  together  with  his 
overcoat,  had  "  seen  better  days."  Once  she 
brought  her  needle  and  thread,  and  darned  the 
torn  sleeve  during  her  lunch-time;  and  though 
he  never  knew  it,  she  was  satisfied  to  have 
helped  him.  To-day  she  noticed  that  he  was 
painting  badly,  and  that  he  seemed  to  take  no 
interest  in  his  work ;  but  she  went  on  busily 
with  her  own  picture,  and  was  so  engrossed  in 
it  that  she  did  not  at  first  observe  that  he  had 


12  AN  IDYLL  OF  LONDON. 

packed  up  his  brushes  and  was  preparing  to  go 
home. 

"  Three  more  strokes,"  he  said  quietly, 
"  and  you  will  have  finished  your  picture.  I 
shall  never  finish  mine';  perhaps  you  will  be 
good  enough  to  set  it  right  for  me.  I  am  not 
coming  here  again.  I  don't  seem  to  have 
caught  the  true  expression — what  do  you  think? 
But  I  am  not  going  to  let  it  worry  me,  for  I 
am  sure  you  will  promise  to  do  your  best  for 
me.  See,  I  will  hand  these  colors  and  these 
brushes  over  to  you,  and  no  doubt  you  will 
accept  the  palette  as  well.  I  have  no  further 
use  for  it." 

Helen  Stanley  took  the  palette  which  he  held 
out  toward  her,  and  looked  at  him  as  though 
she  would  wish  to  question  him. 

"  It  is  very  hot  here,"  he  continued,  "  and  I 
am  going  out.  I  am  tired  of  work." 

He  hesitated,  and  then  added  :  "  I  should 
like  you  to  come  with  me  if  you  can  spare  the 
time." 

She  packed  up  her  things  at  once,  and  the 
two  friends  moved  slowly  away,  he  gazing 


AN  IDYLL  OF  LONDON.  13 

absently  at  the  pictures,  and  she  wondering  in 
her  mind  as  to  the  meaning  of  his  strange 
mood. 

When  they  were  on  the  steps  inside  the 
building  he  turned  to  Helen  Stanley  and 
said : 

"  I  should  like  to  go  back  to  the  pictures 
once  more.  I  feel  as  if  I  must  stand  among 
them  just  a  little  longer.  They  have  been  my 
companions  for  so  long  that  they  are  almost 
part  of  myself.  I  can  close  my  eyes  and  recall 
them  faithfully.  But  I  want  to  take  a  last 
look  at  them  ;  I  want  to  feel  once  more  the 
presence  of  the  great  masters,  and  to  refresh 
my  mind  with  their  genius.  When  I  look  at 
their  work  I  think  of  their  life,  and  can  only 
wonder  at  their  death.  It  was  so  strange  that 
they  should  die." 

The}7  went  back  together,  and  he  took  her 
to  his  favorite  pictures,  but  remained  speech- 
less before  them,  and  she  did  not  disturb  his 
thoughts.  At  last  he  said  : 

"  I  am  ready  to  go  ;  I  have  said  good-by  to 
them  all.  I  know  of  nothing  more  wonderful 


14  -AN  IDYLL  OF  LONDON. 

than  being  among  a  number  of  fine  pictures. 
It  is  almost  overwhelming.  One  expects  Na- 
ture to  be  grand  ;  but  one  does  not  expect  Man 
to  be  grand." 

"  You  know  we  don't  agree  there,"  she 
answered.  "  /  expect  everything  grand  and 
great  from  Man." 

They  went  out  of  the  gallery  and  into  Trafal- 
gar Square.  It  was  a  scorching  afternoon  in 
August,  but  there  was  some  cooling  comfort  in 
seeing  the  dancing  water  of  the  fountains, 
sparkling  so  brightly  in  the  sunshine. 

"  Do  you  mind  stopping  here  a  few  minutes  ?" 
he  said.  "  I  should  like  to  sit  down  and- watch. 
There  is  so  much  to  see." 

She  led  the  way  to  a  seat,  one  end  of  which 
was  occupied  by  a  workman,  who  was  sleep 
ing  soundly  and  snoring  as  well,  his  arms 
folded  tightly  together.  He  had  a  little  clay 
pipe  in  the  corner  of  his  mouth  :  it  seemed  to 
be  tucked  in  so  snugly  that  there  was  not  much 
danger  of  its  falling  to  the  ground.  At  last 
Helen  spoke  to  her  companion. 

"  "What  do  you  mean  by  saying  that  you  will 


AN  IDYLL  OF  LONDO V.  15 

not  be  able  to  finish  your  picture  (  Perhaps 
you  are  not  well ;  indeed,  you  don't  look  well. 
You  make  me  anxious,  for  I  have  a  great  re- 
gard for  you." 

"  I  am  ill  and  suffering,"  he  answered 
quietly.  "  I  thought  I  should  have  died  yester- 
day, but  I  made  up  my  mind  to  live  until  I  saw 
you  again,  and  I  thought  I  would  ask  you  to 
spend  the  afternoon  with  me,  and  to  go  with 
me  to  "Westminster  Abbey,  and  sit  with  me  in 
the  Cloisters.  I  do  not  feel  able  to  go  by  my- 
self, and  I  know  of  no  one  to  ask  except  your- 
self, and  I  believed  you  would  not  refuse  me, 
for  you  have  been  very  kind  to  me.  I  do  not 
quite  understand  why  you  have  been  kind  to 
me,  but  I  am  wonderfully  grateful  to  you.  To- 
day I  heard  someone  in  the  gallery  say  that 
you  were  plain ;  I  turned  round  and  I  said,  '  I 
beg  your  pardon,  /think  she  is  very  beautiful.' 
I  think  they  laughed,  and  that  puzzled  me ; 
for  you  have  always  seemed  to  me  a  very 
beautiful  person." 

At  that  moment  the  little  clay  pipe  fell  from 
the  workman's  mouth,  and  was  broken  into 


16  AN  IDTLL  OF  LONDON. 

bits.  He  awoke  with  a  start,  gazed  stupidly  at 
the  old  man  and  his  companion  and  at  the 
broken  clay  pipe. 

"  Curse  my  luck !"  he  said,  yawning.  "  I 
was  fond  of  that  pipe." 

The  old  man  drew  his  own  pipe  and  his  own 
tobacco  pouch  from  his  pocket. 

"  Take  these,  stranger,"  he  said.  "  I  don't 
want  them.  And  good  luck  to  you." 

The  man's  face  brightened  up  as  he  took  the 
pipe  and  pouch. 

"  You're  uncommon  kind,"  he  said  earnestly. 
"  Can  you  spare  them  ?"  he  added,  holding  them 
out  half  reluctantly. 

"  Yes,"  answerea  the  old  man,  "  I  shall  not 
smoke  again.  You  may  as  well  have  these 
matches  too.'' 

The  laborer  put  them  in  his  pocket,  smiled 
his  thanks,  and  walked  some  little  distance  off, 
and  Helen  watched  him  examine  his  new  pipe, 
and  then  fill  it  with  tobacco  and  light  it. 

Mr.  Lindall  proposed  that  they  should  be 
getting  on  their  way  to  Westminster,  and  they 
soon  found  themselves  in  the  Abbey.  They 


AN  TT)TLL  OF  LONDON.  ]  ; 

sat  together  in  the  Poets'  Corner ;  a  smile  of 
quiet  happiness  broke  over  the  old  man's  tired 
face  as  he  looked  around  and  took  in  all  the 
solemn  beauty  and  grandeur  of  the  resting- 
place  of  the  great. 

"You  know,"  he  said  half  to  himself,  half  to 
his  companion,  "  I  have  no  belief  of  any  kind, 
and  no  hopes  and  no  fears ;  but  all  through 
my  life  it  has  been  a  comfort  to  me  to  sit 
quietly  in  a  church  or  a  cathedral.  The  grace- 
ful arches,  the  sun  shining  through  the  stained 
windows,  the  vaulted  roof,  the  noble  columns 
have  helped  me  to  understand  the  mystery 
which  all  our  books  of  philosophy  cannot  make 
clear,  though  we  bend  over  them  year  after 
year,  and  grow  old  over  them,  old  in  age  and 
in  spirit.  Though  I  myself  have  never  been 
outwardly  a  worshiper,  I  have  never  sat  in  a 
place  of  worship  but  that  for  the  time  being  I 
have  felt  a  better  man.  But  directly  the  voice 
of  doctrine  or  dogma  was  raised,  the  spell  was 
broken  for  me,  and  that  which  I  hoped  was 
being  made  clear  to  me  had  no  further  mean- 
ing for  me.  There  was  only  one  voice  which 


18  AN  IDYLL  OF  LONDON. 

ever  helped  me — the  voice  of  the  organ  arous- 
ing me,  thrilling  me,  filling  me  with  strange 
longing,  with  welcome  sadness,  with  solemn 
gladness.  I  have  always  thought  that  music 
can  give  an  answer  when  everything  else  is  of 
no  avail.  1  do  not  know  what  you  believe." 

"  I  am  so  young  to  have  found  out,"  she  said 
almost  pleadingly. 

"  Don't  worry  yourself,"  he  answered 
kindly.  "  Be  brave  and  strong,  and  let  the 
rest  go.  I  should  like  to  live  long  enough  to 
see  what  you  will  make  of  your  life.  I  believe 
you  will  never  be  false  to  yourself  nor  to  any 
one.  That  is  rare.  I  believe  you  will  not  let 
any  lower  ideal  take  the  place  of  your  high 
ideal  of  what  is  beautiful  and  noble  in  art,  in 
life.  I  believe  that  you  will  never  let  despair 
get  the  upper  hand  of  you.  If  it  does,  you 
may  as  well  go  die ;  yes,  you  may  as  well  go' 
die.  And  I  would  ask  you  not  to  lose  your 
entire  faith  in  humanity.  There  is  noth- 
ing like  that  for  withering  up  the  very  core 
of  the  heart.  I  tell  you,  young  woman, 
humanity  and  Nature  have  so  much  in  com- 


AN  IDYLL  OF  LONDON.  19 

mon  with  each  other  that  if  you  lose  your 
entire  faith  in  the  former,  you  will  lose  part  of 
your  pleasure  in  the  latter ;  you  will  see  less 
beauty  in  the  trees,  the  flowers,  and  the  fields, 
less  grandeur  in  the  mighty  mountains  and  the 
sea  ;  the  seasons  will  come  and  go,  and  you 
will  scarcely  heed  their  coming  and  going; 
winter  will  settle  over  your  soul,  just  as  it 
settled  over  mine.  And  you  see  what  I  am." 

They  had  now  passed  into  the  Cloisters,  and 
they  sat  down  in  one  of  the  recesses  of  the 
windows,  and  looked  out  upon  the  rich  plot  of 
grass  which  the  Cloisters  inclose.  There  was 
not  a  soul  there  except  themselves ;  the  cool 
and  the  quiet  and  the  beauty  of  the  spot  re- 
freshed these  pilgrims,  and  they  rested  in  calm 
enjoyment. 

Helen  was  the  first  to  break  the  silence.  "  I 
am  glad  you  have  brought  me  here,"  she  said ; 
"  I  shall  never  grumble  now  at  not  being  able 
to  afford  a  fortnight  in  the  country.  This  is 
better  than  anything  else." 

"  It  has  always  been  my  summer  holiday  to 
come  here,"  he  said.  "  When  I  first  came  I 


20  AN  ID TLL  OF  LONDON. 

was  like  you,  young  and  hopeful,  and  I  had 
wonderful  visions  of  what  I  intended  to  do  and 
to  be.  Here  it  was  I  made  a  vow  that  I  would 
become  a  great  painter,  and  win  for  myself  a 
resting-place  in  this  very  abbey.  There  is 
humor  in  the  situation,  is  there  not  ?" 

"  I  don't  like  to  hear  you  say  that,"  she 
answered.  "  It  is  not  always  possible  for  us  to 
fulfill  all  our  ambitions.  Still,  it  is  better  to 
have  had  them  and  failed  of  them,  than  not 
to  have  had  them  at  all." 

"Possibly,"  he  replied  coldly.  Then  he 
added :  "  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  something 
about  yourself.  You  have  always  interested 
me." 

"  I  have  nothing  to  tell  you  about  myself," 
she  answered  frankly.  "I  am  alone  in  the 
world,  without  friends  and  without  relations. 
The  very  name  I  use  is  not  a  real  name.  I 
was  a  foundling.  At  times  I  am  sorry  I  do 
not  belong  to  any  one,  and  at  other  times  I  am 
glad  there  is  no  one  whom  I  might  possibly 
vex  and  disappoint.  You  know  I  am  fond  of 
books  and  of  art,  so  my  life  is  not  altogether 


AN  IDYLL  01  LONDON.  21 

empty,  and  I  find  my  pleasure  in  hard  work. 
When  I  saw  you  at  the  gallery  I  wished  to 
know  you,  and  I  asked  one  of  the  students 
who  you  were.  He  told  me  you  were  a  misan- 
thrope, and  I  was  sorry,  because  I  believed 
that  humanity  ought  to  be  helped  and  loved, 
not  despised.  Then  I  did  not  care  so  much 
about  knowing  you,  until  one  day  you  spoke 
to  me  about  my  painting,  and  that  was  the 
beginning  of  our  friendship." 

"Forty  37ears  ago,"  he  said  sadly,  "the 
friend  of  my  boyhood  deceived  me.  I  had  not 
thought  it  possible  that  he  could  be  false  to 
me.  He  screened  himself  behind  me,  and 
became  prosperous  and  respected  at  the  ex- 
pense of  my  honor.  I  vowed  I  would  never 
again  make  a  friend.  A  few  years  later,  when 
I  was  beginning  to  hold  up  my  head,  the 
woman  whom  I  loved  deceived  me.  Then  I 
put  from  me  all  affection  and  all  love.  Greater 
natures  than  mine  are  better  able  to  bear 
these  troubles,  but  my  heart  contracted  and 
withered  up." 

He  paused  for  a  moment,  many  recollections 


22  AN  IDYLL  OF  LONDON. 

overpowering  him.  Then  he  went  on  telling 
her  the  history  of  his  life,  unfolding  to  her 
the  story  of  his  hopes  and  ambitions,  describ 
ing  to  her  the  very  home  where  he  was  born, 
and  the  dark-eyed  sister  whom  he  had  loved, 
and  with  whom  he  had  played  over  the  daisied 
fields  and  through  the  carpeted  woods,  and  all 
among  the  richly  tinted  bracken.  One  day  he 
was  told  she  was  dead,  and  that  he  must  never 
speak  her  name ;  but  he  spoke  it  all  the  day 
and  all  the  night — Beryl,  nothing  but  Beryl ; 
and  he  looked  for  her  in  the  fields  and  in  the 
woods  and  among  the  bracken.  It  seemed  as 
if  he  had  unlocked  the  casket  of  his  heart, 
closed  for  so  many  years,  and  as  if  all  the 
memories  of  the  past  and  all  the  secrets  of  his 
life  were  rushing  out,  glad  to  be  free  once 
more,  and  grateful  for  the  open  air  of 
sympathy. 

"  Beryl  was  as  swift  as  a  deer,"  he  exclaimed. 
"  You  would  have  laughed  to  see  her  on  the 
moor.  Ah,  it  was  hard  to  give  up  all  thoughts 
of  meeting  her  again.  They  told  me  I  should 
see  her  in  heaven,  but  I  did  not  care  about 


AN  ID  TLL  OF  LONDON.  23 

heaven.  I  wanted  Beryl  on  earth,  as  I  knew 
her,  a  merry,  laughing  sister.  I  think  you  are 
right ;  we  don't  forget,  we  become  resigned 
in  a  dead,  dull  kind  of  way." 

Suddenly  he  said  :  "  I  don't  know  why  I 
have  told  you  all  this.  And  yet  it  has  been 
such  a  pleasure  to  me.  You  are  the  only  per- 
son to  whom  I  could  have  spoken  about  my- 
self, for  no  one  else  but  you  would  have  cared." 

"  Don't  you  think,"  she  said  gently,  "  that 
you  made  a  mistake  in  letting  your  experiences 
embitter  vou?  Because  you  had  been  un- 

»•  */ 

lucky  in  one  or  two  instances,  it  did  not  follow 
that  all  the  world  was  against  you.  Perhaps 
you  unconsciously  put  yourself  against  all  the 
world,  and  therefore  saw  every  one  in  an  un- 
favorable light.  It  seems  so  easy  to  do  that. 
Trouble  comes  to  most  people,  doesn't  it  ?  and 
your  philosophy  should  have  taught  you  to 
make  the  best  of  it.  At  least,  that  is  my  notion 
of  the  value  of  philosophy." 

She  spoke  timidly  and  hesitatingly,  as 
though  she  gave  utterance  to  these  words 
against  her  will. 


24  AN  IDYLL  OF  LONDON. 

"I  am  sure  you  are  right,  child,"  he  said 
eagerly. 

He  put  his  hands  to  his  eyes,  but  he  could 
not  keep  back  the  tears. 

"  I  have  been  such  a  lonely  old  man,"  he 
sobbed ;  "  no  one  can  tell  what  a  lonely,  love- 
less life  mine  has  been.  If  I  were  not  so  old' 
and  so  tired,  I  should  like  to  begin  all  over 
again." 

He  sobbed  for  many  minutes,  and  she  did 
not  know  what  to  say  to  him  of  comfort ;  but 
she  took  his  hand  within  her  own  and  gently 
caressed  it,  as  one  might  do  to  a  little  child 
in  pain.  He  looked  up  and  smiled  through  his 
tears. 

"You  have  been  very  good  to  me,"  he  said, 
"  and  I  dare  say  you  have  thought  me  ungrate- 
ful. You  mended  my  coat  for  me  one  morn- 
ing, and  not  a  day  has  passed  but  that  I  have 
looked  at  the  darn  and  thought  of  you.  I  like 
to  remember  that  you  have  done  it  for  me. 
But  you  have  done  far  more  than  this  for  me  ; 
you  have  put- some  sweetness  into  my  life. 
Whatever  becomes  of  me  hereafter,  1  shall 


AN  IDYLL  OF  LONDON.  j>5 

never  be  able  to  think  of  my  life  on  earth  as  any- 
thing but  beautiful,  because  you  thought  kindly 
of  me,  and  acted  kindly  for  me.  The  other 
night,  when  this  terrible  pain  came  over  me,  I 
wished  you  were  near  me ;  1  wished  to  hear 
your  voice.  There  is  very  beautiful  music  in 
your  voice." 

"I  would  have  come  to  you  gladly,"  she 
said,  smiling  quietly  at  him.  "  You  must 
make  a  promise  that  when  you  feel  ill  again 
you  will  send  for  me.  Then  you  will  see  what 
a  splendid  nurse  I  am,  and  how  soon  you  will 
become  strong  and  well  under  my  care ; 
strong  enough  to  paint  many  more  pictures, 
each  one  better  than  the  last.  Now,  will  you 
promise  ?" 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  and  he  raised  her  hand  rev- 
erently to  his  lips. 

"You  are  not  angry  with  me  for  doing 
that  ?"  he  asked  suddenly.  "  I  should  not  like 
to  vex  you." 

"  I  am  not  vexed,"  she  answered  kindly. 

"Then  perhaps  I  may  kiss  it  once  more?" 
he  asked. 


26  AN  ID  TLL  OF  LONDON. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  and  again  he  raised 
her  hand  to  his  lips. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said  quietly,  "  that  was 
kind  of  you.  Do  you  see  that  broken  sun-ray 
yonder?  Is  it  not  golden?  I  find  it  very 
pleasant  to  sit  here ;  and  I  am  quite  happy 
and  almost  free  from  pain.  Lately  1  have 
been  troubled  with  a  dull,  thudding  pain  near 
my  heart,  but  now  I  feel  so  strong  that  I 
believe  I  shall  finish  that  Andrea  del  Sarto 
after  all." 

"  Of  course  you  will,"  she  answered  cheerily, 
"  and  I  shall  have  to  confess  that  yours  is  bet- 
ter than  mine.  I  am  quite  willing  to  yield  the 
palm  to  you." 

"  I  must  alter  the  expression  of  the  mouth," 
he  replied.  "  That  is  the  part  which  has  wor- 
ried me.  I  don't  think  I  told  you  that  I 
have  had  a  commission  to  copy  Rembrandt's 
old  Jew.  I  must  set  to  work  on  that  next 
week." 

"  But  you  have  given  me  your  palette  and 
brushes !"  she  laughed. 

"  You  must  be  generous  enough  to  lend  them 


A  N  ID  TLL  OF  LONDON.  27 

to  me,"  he  said,  smiling.  "  By  the  way,  I  in- 
tend to  give  you  my  books,  all  of  them.  Some 
day  I  must  show  them  to  you ;  I  especially 
value  my  philosophical  books ;  they  have  been 
my  faithful  companions  through  many  years. 
I  believe  you  do  not  read  Greek.  That  is  a 
pity,  because  you  would  surely  enjoy  Aristotle. 
I  think  I  must  teach  you  Greek ;  it  would  be 
an  agreeable  legacy  to  leave  you  when  I  pass 
away  into  the  Great  Silence." 

"  I  should  like  to  learn  ;"  she  said,  wondering 
to  hear  him  speak  so  unreservedly.  It  seemed 
as  if  some  great  barrier  had  been  rolled  aside, 
and  as  if  she  were  getting  to  know  him  better, 
having  been  allowed  to  glance  into  his  past 
life,  to  sympathize  with  his  past  mistakes,  and 
with  the  failure  of  his  ambitions,  and  with  the 
deadening  of  his  heart. 

"  You  must  read  JEschylus,"  he  continued 
enthusiastically,  "and  if  I  mistake  not,  the 
Agamemnon  will  mark  an  epoch  in  your  life. 
You  will  find  that  all  these  studies  will  serve 
to  ennoble  your  art,  and  you  will  be  able  to  put 
mind  into  your  work,  and  not  merely  form  and 


28  AN  IDYLL  OF  LONDON. 

color.  Do  you  know,  I  feel  so  \vell  that  I  be- 
lieve I  shall  not  only  livre  to'  finish  Andrea  del 
Sarto,  but  also  to  smoke  another  pipe !" 

"  You  have  been  too  rash  to-day,"  she 
laughed,  "  giving  away  your  pipe  and  pouch, 
your  palette  and  brushes  in  this  reckless  man- 
ner !  I  must  get  you  a  new  pipe  to-morrow.  I 
wonder  you  did  not  part  with  your  Lucretius." 

'•That  reminds  me,"  he  said,  fumbling  in  his 
pocket,  "  I  think  I  have  dropped  my  Lucretius. 
I  fancy  I  left  it  somewhere  in  the  Poet's  Cor- 
ner. It  would  grieve  me  to  lose  that  book." 

"  Let  me  go  and  look  for  it,"  she  said,  and 
she  advanced  a  few  steps  and  then  came  back. 

"You  have  been  saying  many  kind  words  to 
me,"  she  said,  as  she  put  her  hand  on  his  arm, 
"and  I  have  not  told  you  that  I  value  your 
friendship  and  am  grateful  to  you  for  letting 
me  be  more  than  a  mere  stranger  to  you.  I 
have  been  very  lonely  in  my  life,  for  I  am  not 
one  to  make,  friends  easily,  and  it  has  been  a 
great  privilege  to  me  to  talk  with  you.  I  want 
you  to  know  this;  for  if  I  have  been  anything 
to  you,  you  have  been  a  great  deal  to  me. 


AN  IDYLL  OF  LONDON.  29 

You  see,  although  I  am  young,  I  have  long 
since  learned  somewhat  of  sorrow.  I  have  had 
hard  times  and  hard  words,  and  have  •  never 
met  with  much  sympathy  from  those  of  my 
own  age;  I  have  found  them  narrow,  and  they 
found  me  dull.  They  had  passed  through  few 
experiences  and  knew  nothing  about  failure  or 
success,  and  some  of  them  did  not  even  under- 
stand the  earnestness  of  endeavor,  and  laughed 
at  me  when  I  spoke  of  a  high  ideal.  So  I  with- 
drew into  myself,  and  should  probably  have 
grown  still  more  isolated  than  I  was  before, 
but  that  I  met  you,  and  as  time  went  on  we 
became  friends.  I  shall  always  remember 
your  teaching,  and,  though  all  the  world  may 
laugh,  I  will  keep  to  a  high  ideal  of  life  and 
art.  and  I  will  never  let  despair  creep  into  my 
heart,  nor  lose  my  faith  in  humanity." 

As  she  spoke,  a  lingering  ray  of  sunshine 
lit  up  her  face  and  gently  caressed  her  soft 
brown  hair;  slight  though  her  form,  and 
somber  her  clothes,  and  unlovely  her  features, 
she  seemed  a  gracious  presence,  beautiful  and 
gladdening,  because  of  her  earnestness. 


30  AN  IDYLL  OF  LONDON. 

"  Now,"  she  said,  "  you  rest  here  until  I  come 
back  with  your  Lucretius,  and  then  I  think  I 
must-  be  getting  on  my  way  home.  But  you 
must  fix  a  time  for  our  first  Greek  lesson ;  for 
we  must  begin  to-morrow." 

When  she  had  gone  he  walked  in  the 
Cloisters,  holding  his  hat  in  his  hand  and  his 
stick  under  his  arm.  There  was  a  quiet  smile 
on  his  face,  called  forth  by  pleasant  thoughts 
in  his  mind,  and  he  did  not  look  quite  so 
shrunken  and  shriveled  as  usual.  His  eyes 
were  fixed  on  the  ground  ;  but  he  raised  them 
and  observed  a  white  cat  creeping  toward  him. 
It  came  and  rubbed  itself  against  his  foot,  and 
purring  with  all  its  might,  seemed  determined 
to  win  some  kind  of  notice  from  him.  The  old 
man  stooped  down  to  stroke  it,  and  was  just 
touching  its  sleek  coat,  when  he  suddenly 
withdrew  his  hand  and  groaned  deeply.  He 
struggled  to  the  recess  and  sank  back.  The 
stick  fell  on  the  stone  with  a  clatter,  and  the 
battered  hat  rolled  down  beside  it,  and  the 
white  cat  fled  away  in  terror. 

Meanwhile  Helen  Stanley  was   looking  for 


AN  IDYLL  OF  LONDON.  31 

the  lost  Lucretius  in  the  Poet's  Corner.  She 
found  it  lying  near  Chaucer's  tomb,  and  was 
just  going  to  take  it  to  her  friend  when  she 
saw  the  workman  to  whom  they  had  spoken  in 
Trafalgar  Square.  He  recognized  her  at  once 
and  came  toward  her. 

"  I've  been  having  a  quiet  half-hour  here," 
he  said.  "  It  always  does  me  good  to  sit  in  the 
abbey." 

"  You  should  go  into  the  Cloisters,"  she  said 
kindly.  "  I  have  been  sitting  there  with  my 
friend.  He  will  be  interested  to  hear  that  you 
love  this  beautiful  abbey." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  him  again,"  said  the 
workman.  "  He  had  a  kind  way  about  him, 
and  that  pipe  he  gave  me  is  an  uncommon  good 
one ;  still,  I  am  sorry  I  sma'shed  the  little  clay 
pipe.  I'd  grown  used  to  it.  I'd  smoked  it 
ever  since  my  little  girl  died  and  left  me  alone 
in  the  world.  I  used  to  bring  my  little  girl 
here,  and  now  I  come  alone ;  but  it  isn't  the 
same  thing." 

"  Xo,  it  could  not  be  the  same  thing,"  said 
Helen  gently ;  "  but  you  find  a  little  comfort?" 


32  AN  ID TL L  OF  LONDON. 

"  Some  little  comfort,"  he  answered.  "  One 
can't  expect  much." 

They  went  together  into  the  Cloisters,  and 
as  they  came  near  the  recess  where  the  old 
man  rested  Helen  said  : 

"Why,  he  has  fallen  asleep!  He  must  have 
been  very  tired.  And  he  has  dropped  his  hat 
and  stick.  Thank  you,  if  you  will  put  them 
down  there  I  will  watch  by  his  side  until  he 
wakes  up.  I  don't  suppose  he  will  sleep  long." 

The  workman  stooped  down  to  pick  up  the 
hat  and  stick,  and  glanced  at  the  sleeper. 
Something  in  the  sleeper's  countenance  arrested 
his  attention.  He  turned  to  the  girl  and  saw 
that  she  was  watching  him. 

"  What  is  it  'C '  she  asked  anxiously.  "  What 
is  the  matter  with  you?" 

He  tried  to  speak,  but  his  voice  failed  him, 
and  all  he  could  do  was  to  point  with  trem- 
bling hand  to  the  old  man. 

Helen  looked,  and  a  loud  cry  broke  from  her 
lips.  The  old  man  was  dead. 

THE   END. 


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